Once Bitten, Twice Shy
by Voltora
Summary: One bite and young Remus Lupin's life was changed forever by the curse of lycanthropy. Hated, feared and despised by wizardkind, he must learn to come to terms with his condition. But can he find the strength inside to survive?
1. Dangerous Games

**Once Bitten, Twice Shy **

_By Voltora._

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Remus J. Lupin nor any other character, location or creation of the Harry Potter series. They belong to J.K. Rowling, the goddess of literature. bows before the shrine with offerings of Ton-tongue toffees and Hippogriff feathers Any characters not recognised are my own, please don't pinch them without asking.

_Special thanks to David, for listening to my constant rambling and to my work when I needed support the most. And to Lil Lupin, for your constant support, patience and understanding, and your friendship _

**Chapter One: Dangerous Games.**

A cool breeze blew gently through the trees, a shimmering wave of jade and viridian dancing beneath the summer sun. The warm air was rich with the scent of honeysuckle. A pair of bluebirds whirled down from the sky, piping their warbling song before darting away into the safety of the sun-dappled woodland. The trickle of water from the creak running along its edge was barely audible against the beautiful melody of the violins and the rumble of voices and laughter from the Ottoman's property.

Tarquin Ottoman stood on the terrace and surveyed the grounds of his home with pride. His wife had done herself proud. The lawn was short and green, the apple tree was ripening with good-sized fruits and there wasn't a weed in sight. Healthy snapdragons were swaying in the breeze in the raised beds, and the huge, quivering Flutter-by bushes were attracting a lot of admiration and praise. With a seamless blend of magic and a natural talent for gardening, Patricia had created a horticultural masterpiece.

Tarquin cast an eye over at the fence that separated his wife's domain from what she called the 'wilds'. Mother Nature's own creation, the woodland that came right up to the rear of the small estate, was a marvel in itself. Sporadic growths of plants in all shapes and sizes. Bursts of colour emerged in patches sunlight, whist the bracken and blends of greens and browns carpeted the uneven ground. Animals flourished just as well as the plants, out of sight to all but the keen observer. A constantly changing landscape that kept its simple beauty throughout the year with no assistance from anyone.

Patricia hated it. To her it was untamed and ghastly. But Tarquin liked it. To him it was perfect, and never missed an opportunity to wander. If you were to climb over the fence you had to regain your balance fast or else slide down into the creak at the bottom. It took another climb to scramble up the other slope and into the shaded trees. It was a lovely place for a peaceful walk to contemplate worldly matters and to escape the wife for a few blissful hours. On rare occasions, Tarquin had admired from afar, the distant form of grazing unicorns. Extremely flighty and nervous beasts, the animals would detect his presence and vanish into the trees before you had time to blink.

Tranquil and serene: a fair cry from the rambunctious gathering that had invaded Ottoman's home a few hours previous. He noted, with a slight grimace, the sparkling banner floating in the air above the long tables arranged down one side of the garden, laden down with finger foods and tall wine glasses. '_Happy 70th Birthday, dear Tarquin!'_

Seventy years old: he couldn't believe it. His stomach was overhanging his belt only slightly and his hair was clinging to what colour remained, but he didn't feel old. Rather short and stout, Tarquin Ottoman was a fine wizard of many talents, but of a single passion. Flight. This party, at the insistence of his darling wife, was to not only celebrate his birthday, but to commemorate the day his father passed on the family business to him. Ottoman's dream was to create a masterpiece of a broomstick. Many brooms on the market were crude or purely built for the noble sport of Quidditch. Yet his ambition was to market stylish brooms for the upper-class wizard, brooms that made a statement of the owner's wealth, power and beauty. The business had started out as a small operation from his grandfather's Hippogriff farm. From then it simply grew and grew. Ottoman's Flights of Fancy were in great demand, and Tarquin had much to thank his employees for. Over twenty highly skilled designers, crafters and the brave-hearted flight testers had helped keep up with the increasing demand for the past twenty-five years that Tarquin had headed the company, following his father's retirement.

Tarquin gazed fondly at the assembled crowd. Friends, family and employees with their families, all milling around, eating and drinking wine, listening to the music and a few were dancing elegantly at the other end of the terrace. In Tarquin's opinion, the string quartet was a tad much, but Patricia had wanted them. A pair of house-elves wearing spotless toga-like cloths, each carried trays of refreshments and salmon cut sandwiches, walked round the garden offering them politely to every guest.

'Tarquin! Where are you, dear?' came a high-pitched simper from behind him.

Tarquin closed his eyes for a brief moment, before turning round and smiling benignly as his wife bustled out of the house. Dressed in fine robes of pale cream and her dyed blonde hair fixed up in an almost stiff, but elegant bun (no doubt using her most expensive of Madam Loretta's Majestic Hair-Potions range) Patricia Ottoman flounced over to him, waving a white-gloved hand at a third house-elf. Bowing graciously, the elf backed away and disappeared.

'Tarquin, darling, what _are _you doing out here? There are still guests arriving and you know it's poor grace not to greet them promptly. Come along.'

Taking his arm, Patricia led him back inside like she would a small, wilful child.

'Really, Tarquin, _do _try to make more of an effort. This is _your _party after all. I can't be expected to do all the work now, can I?'

Tarquin didn't bother to voice that she was the one who had insisted on all the elaborate preparations and inviting every wizard within a twenty-mile radius of their home.

'No, dear,' was all he said, plucking a glass of elderberry wine from a passing elf and taking a long draught.

'Archibald Fisher and his wife arrived using one of those newfangled Portkeys. Such an entrance; I knew Merle would do _something_ to make sure she was noticed. Always been an attention seeker,' Patricia said with a haughty sniff. 'You wouldn't catch _me_ showing off like that.'

'No, dear.'

'After all, one cannot parade oneself in public with such airs and graces; it's just not lady-like.'

'No, dear.'

'Tarquin, are you even listening to me?'

'Oh, yes, dear,' said Tarquin hastily, catching the change in tone and figuring it was being directed at him.

Making their way into the hallway, Patricia beamed in apparent delight as yet another of their elves opened the front door to welcome another guest inside.

'Esther, sweetheart, how _are _you?'

'Patsy! You look simply _stunning_ in that robe,' Ester gushed. The two witches embraced and exchanged cheek-kisses. 'Another import?'

'But of course, only from the finest boutiques in Paris.' She gave a twirl. 'Made from the finest pixie silk.'

Tarquin tuned out his wife's incessant chat and nodded a welcome to Esther's husband, Douglas, and their teenaged daughter, Mildred, waving them inside and directing them to the lounge.

'Quick,' he whispered into Douglas' ear, 'escape while you can!'

Douglas chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder.

'Oh, it's not so bad,' he said, handing Tarquin a boxed gift. 'Happy birthday.'

-o-

'Diane!'

No answer.

Julian Lupin sighed and paced the hallway, impatiently checking his watch. He shouted up the stairs for the second time.

'Diane, come on, we'll be the last one's there at this rate!'

'I'm coming,' came a muffled voice from the bathroom. Moments later, the door banged open and Julian caught a fleeting glimpse of a fluffy white towel and a tangle of wet hair before it vanished into the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack. Julian threw his hands up in despair and resumed his pacing, pausing in front of the small mirror to check again that his tie was straight.

'Diane, _please_, I really want to make a good impression and I can't do that if we're late.'

'We won't be late, just give me a minute.'

'How long does it take to chose a robe?' Julian muttered under his breath. Sure enough …

'Do you have any idea what colour Mrs Ottoman will be wearing?' she called.

'No, I don't know what colour she'll be wearing; does it _matter_?'

'Yes!' Diane sounded scandalised. 'You never wear the same colour as the hostess.'

'Says who?'

'Lots of people. It's inconsiderate.'

'Look, if by some bad luck you put on the same colour, you can always use a Charm to change it.'

'But I'm useless at those, and they never last.'

Julian rolled his eyes. At this rate they'd get there by the time the party finished. It wasn't the best way to impress the boss, least of all on his birthday. For the next ten minutes, he paced round the hallway impatiently.

'There: what do you think?'

Julian ceased his pacing and looked up. Standing tentatively at the head of the stairs, Diane Lupin gave a nervous smile and smoothed out her pale blue robe. A fine silver chain with a small locket hung about her slender throat and small hoops hung from her ears. Her long brown hair fell past her shoulders, a slight curl hanging with an almost casual elegance down one side of her face. She tucked it behind her ear and spread her hands anxiously.

'Well? Think it'll do?'

'You look lovely,' said Julian softly, and meant it. Married for eleven years, Diane still appeared every bit as beautiful as the day he met her. Yet she never considered herself anything other than plain. She grimaced as she looked herself over.

'I don't know … do you think-'

'I think you look great and that we ought to get going,' said Julian firmly. Smiling, he held out his hand. Lifting her head high, Diane took a few dainty steps down the stairwell and took his hand. Pulling her into his arms, Julian swept her round the hall, and held her close.

'Well, my lady,' he purred, his voice deeper and smoother. Diane tried not to giggle. 'Would you do me the honour of this dance?'

'Certainly, my lord.' Diane dropped into an exaggerated curtsey and allowed her husband to dance her down the hall towards the door.

Stopping just by the door, Julian held her close and planted a soft kiss on her lips.

'Now, stop worrying.'

'Okay, I promise.'

'Promise?' Julian raised an eyebrow sceptically.

'I mean it this time.'

Smiling, they kissed again, prolonging it as Diane wrapped her arms around his neck.

'Yuck!'

The immature snort of disgust came from the living room doorway. Both Julian and Diane turned to look down at the cause of the interruption. Their seven-year-old son, Remus, pulled a face and covered his eyes.

'That's enough of that, young man, get your coat,' said Julian. He checked his watch again. 'We're already late.'

Remus pulled on his coat and stood still while his mother quickly brushed his honey-brown hair. Julian stood back and considered. They all looked smart and presentable. Diane had a small gift for Tarquin in her bag and Remus didn't have any smudges on his face from being in the garden all morning. They were ready to go.

'Alright, everyone together and, Remus, stay perfectly still, I don't want to get Splinched – today of all days.'

Nodding, Remus took his mother's hand and she wrapped an arm round his father's waist. Taking a long mahogany wand from his pocket, Julian muttered a spell under his breath and a flash of light engulfed them. Next moment, the narrow hallway had disappeared to be replaced by the long driveway to a large house with balloons floating on either side of the door.

Julian quickly looked about and sighed his relief.

'Right on target,' he said, shoving his wand back into his pocket.

Diane looked on with interest at the shaped bushes lining the pathway.

'It's very fancy,' she whispered, holding on to Julian's arm. 'That house is huge, is it really just Tarquin and his wife?'

'His children moved out some years ago, I think,' Julian said. 'Presumably the eldest will come back here when they pass on. Got a few house elves from what I hear, but apart from that it's just the two of them.'

'It's lovely,' said Diane. Situated miles away from the nearest village, it was a safe place for a wizarding family to live. Diane and her husband had a nice cottage in the middle of Sedbergh a few miles south. She took pride in her garden but by the look of the front garden of this house, it was nowhere near as grand.

They climbed up the front steps and the double doors were opened from the inside. Remus was delighted to see a house-elf. They didn't have one at home. The elf bowed low so that her long nose nearly touched the carpet.

'Julian!' A loud, cheery voice boomed out of the hallway, followed by Tarquin Ottoman himself. A little red in the face from having a few glasses, Tarquin greeted them warmly.

'Glad you could make it, Julian,' he said, shaking hands.

'Pleasure to be here,' said Julian politely. 'This is my wife, Diane.' He led her forward and she gave a nervous smile, offering her hand.

Tarquin beamed.

'Welcome Diane – delighted to meet you at last.'

'Thank you,' said Diane, uncomfortably aware that she was blushing at the attention. Social gatherings were not high on her favourite pastime list, but Tarquin seemed friendly enough to ease any awkwardness.

'And who is this young man?' asked Tarquin, spying Remus. The boy looked up at Tarquin with wide blue-grey eyes. He'd been excited about going somewhere new, but seeing all the adults milling around, he wasn't sure if this was going to be as fun as he'd hoped it would.

Diane drew him out from behind her.

'This is Remus, our son,' she said.

'And a fine lad he is,' said Tarquin. 'You like flying, Remus?'

Remus nodded.

'Play Quidditch at all?'

'A little,' he said.

'Excellent.' Tarquin drew his wand and gave it a little flick but stopped as someone came up behind him, and said, rather loudly, '_Ahem_.'

'Ah, Patricia, dear,' said Tarquin, hastily lowering his wand and looking somewhat guilty. 'There you are.'

Diane looked the hostess up and down. She was relieved to see that Patricia Ottoman was wearing cream, but with a rather artificial smile as she gave Diane an appraising look. Self-consciously, Diane cast a sidelong look into the ornate framed mirror to her right to check her reflection.

'Tarquin, aren't you going to introduce us?' Patricia said airily.

'Yes, dear,' said Tarquin. Diane suppressed a smile. Tarquin didn't appear overly pleased with his wife's attitude but was obviously too polite to admonish it. Or perhaps he was just used to it. 'This is Julian Lupin, one of my best designers.'

Patricia regally held out a gloved-hand and Julian, ever the gentleman, kissed it.

'And his wife, Diane.'

Diane offered a smile, but it waned under the scrutiny.

'Julian's work is just exquisite,' Tarquin went on, beckoning a house-elf over. One quickly came over with a tray of wineglasses and held it out.

'Elderberry wine?' he squeaked. 'Sir? Madam?'

'Thank you,' said Diane, as she took a glass for herself and handed another to Julian. The elf looked delighted, bowed and hurried out of sight. Patricia raised an eyebrow, as though speaking to servants was taboo. Working to keep a smile in place, Diane took a sip and turned her attention back to Julian and Tarquin.

'His craftsmanship, I have never seen the likes. Remember, Patricia, I brought one home to show you, that one with the Celtic woven-style down the handle?'

'It was very impressive,' said Patricia, turning a genuine smile to Julian. 'Have you been with us long?'

'Oh, two years this November,' he said.

'Lovely … and what is it that _you_ do, my dear?'

Diane swallowed her mouthful of wine and blinked, startled.

'Me? Oh, I'm a full time mother,' she said, indicating Remus. Remus, bored with the adult chat, had wandered off down the hallway and was looking at an oil painting of a witch sitting astride a broom and gliding round a flowering meadow, before moving onto a much more interesting tapestry portraying an early form of Quidditch.

'_Really_?' said Patricia, both her plucked eyebrows raised. 'Just the one?'

Julian heard and cast an anxious look at Diane. She didn't answer straight away. Holding her head up, however, she answered in a quite steady voice, 'Yes. Just Remus.'

Julian cleared his throat.

'Mrs Ottoman-'

'Oh, Patricia, please,' she said, flashing him a smile.

'Patricia,' Julian nodded, 'Tarquin tells me you're quite a gardener …'

Further down the hall, Remus was still watching the Quidditch players on the old tapestry. It was a moment before he realised he wasn't alone in admiring it. Tarquin stood by him, looking from the tapestry to the small child.

'She's never liked this,' he said in a stage whisper, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Remus turned to see Mrs Ottoman talking to his parents. 'Always trying to get rid of it. Been in the family for ages. Hey, there's some more youngsters like yourself round here somewhere. Do you want to go play with them?'

Remus brightened and nodded.

'They'll be out in the garden,' said Tarquin. 'Here, take this with you.'

Bringing his wand out again, Tarquin gave it a sharp flick. Remus watched with great interest as red sparks flew out of it like a fountain. Then, in Mr Ottoman's outstretched hand, appeared a large scarlet Quaffle.

'There we are, you take that outside and have a run around. You don't want to be stuck inside with old folk like us.'

'Thank you,' said Remus, eagerly taking the Quaffle.

'Garden's that way,' said Tarquin, turning the lad round and giving him a nudge in the right direction. 'Off you go.'

Remus set off at a run, weaving between the crowds of people. Holding the Quaffle to him, Remus quickly found the way out onto the terrace. He spied some children running around the hyacinths, and leapt down onto the lawn hurrying over.

Back inside, Diane had seized the opportunity to bolt as more guests arrived and Patricia Ottoman turned her attention to them. Grabbing Julian's arm, they both fled into the lounge.

'Well,' said Julian, somewhat disconcerted. 'She's really …'

'Snobbish?' Diane suggested out of the corner of her mouth.

'Hush, Diane, you don't want her to hear that,' said Julian, keeping a smile on his face as he waved hello to a few fellow employees.

'Might take her down a peg or two if she did. Honestly, don't you think she was rude?'

'Hmm.'

'Is she like that with everyone, do you think?'

'Diane, please,' Julian stopped and took her hand in his. 'I understand she's not the nicest person you'll ever meet, but can you please try to refrain from saying things about her within earshot of her friends? It wouldn't be the best thing considering I work with her husband.'

Casting a wary eye around the lounge, Diane noticed a few heads turning their way and felt a flush rise up her neck.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you,' she whispered. She felt awful now. Not many people could resist a good gossip, and providing material wasn't the best thing to do.

'You're not embarrassing me,' Julian assured her. 'I just want you to enjoy yourself this evening, not spend it muttering curses behind the hostesses back … no matter much I agree with you,' he added with a guilty smile.

Diane laughed. Taking another sip of her wine, she happily greeted her husband's friends and said hello to the wives and the sons and daughters old enough to drink.

'Where's Remus gone?' she suddenly asked. Eyes sweeping the room, she couldn't see him. Feeling worried, Diane craned to see over the heads of everyone else.

'Your little lad's outside,' said a voice behind her. Diane spun round and put a hand to her chest.

'Mr Ottoman, do you always creep up on people like that?' she asked, checking she hadn't spilt any wine on the carpet. She had a bad feeling that Patricia would never have her back if she did.

'Only on people I like,' said Tarquin, with a wink.

Diane opened her mouth to ask whether he'd ever snuck up on his wife if that was the case, but thought better of it and held her tongue. Tarquin seemed to have read her mind however because he cast a wary eye over his shoulder.

'Don't worry, the old bat should be out of hearing,' he whispered. Diane giggled. Julian nearly choked on his wine but recovered as inconspicuously as possible. 'Told her I didn't want a fuss this year, but she never listens to me. I'm sure you two don't have such problems.'

'Oh, no, sir,' said Julian. Gazing fondly at his wife, Julian drew Diane to his side and kissed her hair. 'We're very happily married and intend to be so for many years to come.'

'Wonderful,' said Tarquin. His face took on a slightly more concerned expression. 'I'm sorry if this is none of my business, and please tell me to go away if it is, but I can't help but feel that Pat was less than tactful about asking about children?' He looked expectantly at them both.

The expressions on both Julian's and Diane's faces became oddly guarded. They shared a tender glance, before Diane chose to reply, speaking more to the floor than to Tarquin.

'Remus is the only child I've been able to carry to full term,' she muttered, uncomfortably aware of listening ears all around the room. 'And we've not tried again … not after so many …'

Tarquin looked mortified, not only at the confession but with himself. He slapped himself on the forehead and grimaced.

'Tarquin Oswald Ottoman, you _idiot_,' he hissed under his breath. 'Diane, Julian, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise-'

'It's alright,' said Diane, still speaking to the floor. Too many people had said sorry when they learned the truth, but it didn't change anything. She kept telling herself there shouldn't be any harm in asking, considering it had happened so long ago. But the memories still haunted her. Bravely, she lifted her head. Her eyes were a little red. 'Remus is a wonderful child and we're lucky to have him.'

Tarquin wrung his hands, looking awfully guilty for his curiosity.

'It was an inconsiderate thing to inquire about … shall I shut up and leave you in peace?'

Diane smiled. She'd taken a liking to the old man and didn't want him to go away thinking he'd mortally offended them.

'No, it's quite all right, you didn't know. It happened a long time ago, and after all, we _do_ have a child and we're very happy.'

'And so you should be; he seems a delightful boy. I sent him outside to play with the other little kids, poor things would be bored stiff cooped up inside.'

Before long, Diane and Julian were able to relax and Tarquin encouraged them to mingle with the other guests, just as his wife came hunting for him.

'I feel so underdressed,' Diane confessed. 'Everyone else looks so fine.'

'You look _beautiful_, Di, stop comparing yourself to everyone else. You are a vision in my eyes … does it matter what any snob with too much money thinks?'

Diane gave her husband a shrewd look.

'Speak louder; they'll all hear.'

Laughing, they headed outside.

The string quartet was still playing and many witches and wizards were dancing slowly to the music. The air was cool as the sun was nearing the horizon. A swarm of fairy lights lit up and scattered among the flowers and bushes, illuminating the scene. Constant talk and sporadic laughter filled the air. Everyone was enjoying themselves and anticipating the birthday cake.

With a shout, a Quaffle sailed over the nearby Flutter-by bushes and bounced up to the terrace. Two well-dressed young witches squealed and tottered out of the way on their high-heeled shoes. Diane stepped forward and grabbed the Quaffle as it bounced up again. Remus, followed by another boy with dark hair and a skinny little girl with large pale eyes, came running into sight, panting.

'Where did this come from?' asked Diane, tossing the ball up and catching it again.

'Mr Ottoman gave it to me,' said Remus, very out of breath.

'Rosie kicked it over the bushes,' said the other boy, pointing.

'Did not,' argued the girl. She looked up at Diane. 'Can we have it back?'

'Sure, just be a bit more careful, all of you. You don't want to upset Mrs Ottoman by beheading her plants.' She tossed it to Remus. 'Now, make sure you don't lose it, sweetheart,' she added. 'You need to give it back to Mr Ottoman before we leave, okay?'

'Yes, mum,' said Remus. The three of them spun on their heels and ran off back to the others.

Remus raised the Quaffle above his head and threw it back into the midst of the other children. There were about eight of them, all of them younger than Remus, but the only other children at the gathering were in their mid-teens and not interested in playing around with the 'babies' as Remus had overheard from one young lady, trying to act grown-up though she was barely fourteen.

The Quaffle was tossed and bounced around between them, Rosie trying to kick it whenever it came towards her. Bryony and Imogen were only four and were scared of the Quaffle, but toddled after it, giggling and squealing if it rolled past them. Lindsey wandered round the flowerbed in a daydream. John, Luke and Edward, the only other boys, eagerly raced round with Remus, shouting and lobbing the Quaffle to each other. John, clearly a huge Quidditch fan, delighted in supplying a running commentary, mimicking what he could remember from listening to the radio broadcasts of recent matches.

'John passes to Eddie, Eddie fumbles the Quaffle and Rosie misses a kick for the third time!' he shouted, taking a leap over a bed of snapdragons, only just avoiding their tiny teeth-like petals. 'Remus grabs it, he throws it to the goal and scores!'

Remus fetched the Quaffle from among the slightly squashed plants. He paused for a second to try and lift one up a little, but the long stem sagged hopelessly and he gave up. He laughed with the other boys and ran around with seemingly endless energy. He knew a few of them from his home village but it was nice to see new faces occasionally.

Luke darted for the Quaffle as Imogen ducked to avoid it.

'Eddie's coming in fast – hey, Rosie, get out of it!'

But Rosie, wanting to join in with the boys, had already run up to the Quaffle and gave it a good hard kick. The Quaffle flew up and arched in the air, falling right into someone's hands.

All the children stopped.

Remus knew the boy in an instant. Tyler Herald. Fourteen years old, surly and very bad-tempered. His short black hair was spiked up and his face was covered in pustules. Always moody, the teen was not particularly well liked in Sedbergh but respected by what few teenagers there were. Leader of a small gang of kids in the area, Tyler looked dreadfully out of place standing beside the Flutter-bys. No doubt his parents were around somewhere and had left him to his own devices.

He cast a malevolent glare over the youngsters, tossing the Quaffle up and spinning it on his finger. Remus didn't like Tyler and his mother had warned him many times to stay away from him, but remembering what she'd said about returning the Quaffle, he went over to the teenager.

'Can we have our ball back, please?' he asked, again recalling his mother's warning to always mind his manners, no matter who he spoke to.

Tyler stopped spinning the Quaffle and caught in his hands. Throwing Remus a sneer, he tossed it up and starting bouncing it on his head, keeping it high in the air.

'Hey,' said Remus, not happy at being ignored. 'Can we have it back?'

'Yeah,' said Luke, coming up beside him. 'We had it first.'

'Tough,' snapped Tyler. He spun it on his finger again. 'Go on,' he said, 'Try and take it.'

Remus reached for it but Tyler lifted it up above his head.

'Missed it.'

Again, he lowered it just enough for Remus to try for it. Trying to be quicker, Remus snatched for it. Again, he missed.

'It's not mine,' he protested. 'I need to give it back to Mr Ottoman.'

'Oh, really? Well, guess what? It's mine now.'

'No, it's not, give it back!'

'What? You going to make me?' Mockingly, Tyler put on a frightened face. 'Ah, is the ickle kiddie gonna make me give him his ball back? Gasp! I'm so fwightened!'

Sniggering, the boy started dancing among them, dodging left, right and spinning round, keeping the Quaffle just out of their reach. All of them crowded round in protest, reaching for it and crying for him to return it.

'It's not yours,' stated Remus loudly. Stealing was wrong. Why wouldn't he give it back to them? 'I want it back!'

Tyler stopped dancing around to look at him.

'Oh, you _do_, do you?'

Remus nodded.

Tyler shrugged.

'All right then.'

He held out the Quaffle. Eyeing it suspiciously for a moment, Remus stepped forward and reached for it. Abruptly, Tyler straightened up, turned and threw it hard. The children all turned in time to watch the scarlet ball sail over the fence and disappear. Tyler smirked at Remus.

'Go and get it then.'

Remus felt his stomach drop. That was Mr Ottoman's Quaffle. His mum expected him to return it before they went back home. If he lost it, he'd be in trouble.

But the woodland beyond the fence made him hesitant.

The sun had just set and darkness was closing in rapidly. Already the trees were deep in shadow. Stars were slowly lighting the sky above as they came out of hiding. The moon cast silvery shadows into the dark, but it did look rather scary. Shadows flittered through the tree branches. Remus hoped it was just a bat.

'What's the matter?' Tyler scoffed. 'Is the little kiddie scared of the dark?'

'No, I'm not!' Remus glared at him. He _wasn't_ scared of the dark.

'Then go get it, then.'

John and Edward exchanged nervous looks. Imogen and Bryony had scurried off, unnoticed, back to their mothers. Luke was looking apprehensive. Remus looked over to where all the grown-ups were standing. Mr Ottoman was standing up and giving some sort of speech. His mother and father were listening attentively. No one was watching the children.

Making up his mind, Remus walked over to the fence.

'You'll be in big trouble,' warned Lindsey. 'My dad said we're not allowed in there.'

'I won't be long,' said Remus. The wooden fence was easy enough to climb through. Leaning over the low thin log that made up one rung of the fence, Remus swung his leg up and clambered through, keeping his head down to avoiding bumping it on the other piece of wood.

'Beware the monsters,' Tyler called after him. He gave an evil cackle, hoping to scare the boy.

But Remus found his feet and said, 'Bet _you're_ too scared to come in here.'

The smile vanished from Tyler's face. The other children giggled and gasped. He knew it wasn't a nice thing to say, but Remus felt better for it. He'd climbed through the fence and nothing had happened. It wasn't scary.

Turning round, Remus looked about for the Quaffle. It was several feet below him, floating on the surface of the water of the creak. The starlight was shimmering over the dark surface, reflecting the black sky and the overhanging branches of the trees on the opposite bank.

The slope didn't look too steep. Slowly, Remus sat down on the ground with his legs stretched out in front of him, and slid down. The slope was dry so he had to push himself along. Twigs, small stones and dry earth rolled down with him, some of it landing in the water with tiny splashes.

The Quaffle bobbed away with the ebb of the water. Knowing his mother would probably not be happy with him soaking his shoes and socks, Remus hovered on the edge and leaned over, hoping to bob it back towards him. Just out of reach, the Quaffle drifted away and bumped against the other side. A fallen stick caught it and held the ball there.

There didn't appear to be any stepping-stones so Remus took a few steps further along the bank to see if he could find the best spot to cross. He looked back up the slope. Luke, John, Lindsey, Edward and Rosie were all hovering by the fence, sticking their heads through the gap to see better. There was a shower of dirt and stones as Tyler came stumbling down the slope. Remus leapt out of the way in case Tyler ran into him.

Coming to a less than dignified stop, Tyler got to his feet and called back up the slope.

'There! See? Easy for someone like me – not scared of nothing, me.' He threw a nasty look at Remus as he said it.

Remus ignored him. The Quaffle might come loose and drift away if he didn't get it back quick. Finding a spot where he could see a number of large flat rocks near the surface, Remus took a big step and started to make his way across.

Luke and the others were all making hushed noises of awe from behind him.

'Hey, you warn me if someone comes,' Tyler snapped at them. The children nodded, Rosie twisting her head to look.

The rocks were slippery and covered in green slime. Remus wobbled a little but managed to keep his balance. Slowly, he edged his way across, the water sloshing over his shoes. When he was close enough, he stood poised, swung his arms a few times, and jumped from the last rock to the far bank. A cheer sounded from the other side of the fence as he picked up the Quaffle and held it up triumphantly.

A sudden flurry of movement in the leaves over his head made Remus jump. A bird shot out of its nest and flew away, chirping in rapid bursts as though frightened. Tyler himself jumped, and then recovered himself quickly to hide any embarrassment.

'Ha, knew you scared easy,' he said, dusting his robes off nonchalantly. Looking across the creak at Remus, his gaze travelled up the far bank and into the trees. He became very still. His eyes narrowed, squinting into the darkness, and then slowly widened, his mouth slightly open.

Puzzled, Remus turned and looked up.

A small gasp escaped his mouth as it fell open.

A pair of gleaming yellow eyes were floating in the shadows. Then Remus' eyes adjusted to the gloom and he made out the body of a very large creature behind the eyes.

It was huge. Its fur was coarse and slate grey, blending with the blue-grey shadows. The tufted tail swayed back and forth slowly as the animal crouched on its front legs. It sniffed the air and the eyes stared unblinkingly down into the ditch. The two pointed ears atop its head swivelled round.

Remus stood rooted to the spot. He didn't make a sound, but the beating of his heart was pounding in his ears so loudly he was sure the creature could hear it. His palms were sweating and his hands shaking. The Quaffle nearly slipped from his grasp. He had never seen a wolf before. Well, in pictures at least, but never in the flesh. He was both awed and frightened by the beast's presence. Perfectly still and silent, the wolf stood like it was made of stone. Then it moved. The snort, a little shorter than a normal muzzle, swung first to the left, then to the right. It sniffed again, and let out a snarl. A jaw full of long pointed teeth glinted in the half-light.

Tyler made a faint croaking sound and whispered an oath, but he didn't move. Remus stared up the wolf. Part of him was screaming at him to run back to his mother but the rest of him was held paralysed by the mesmerising glow of the yellow eyes as the wolf turned its head, and looked directly at him.

For a moment, their eyes locked onto each other's. Vibrant yellow that saw through the dark met pale blue-grey, wide and fearful. Remus did not blink. The yellow eyes seemed to penetrate deep into his own, like it was looking into his mind. A momentary flicker passed through the wolf's gaze, and it lowered its head, as if it were considering him. Another snarl sounded from its throat. But still, it didn't move.

Somehow, Remus' right foot managed to free itself of the Petrified state of the rest of his body to take a tiny step backwards.

_Just back away_, his brain finally instructed through the fear. _Just back away slowly … don't make any sudden movements … get back to mum and dad … I'll be safe with them …_

But the wolf caught the movement. An increasingly angry sound rumbled out of its throat. The muscles in its massive shoulders bunched and the wolf stealthily took a step forward on one huge paw. The black claws were long and sharp. The mouthful of teeth gleamed as the wolf emerged from the shadows. The light of the full moon caught its face, highlighting the dark silvery grey of the fur, and the pointed teeth as it opened its mouth hungrily, saliva dripping from its jaw.

'WEREWOLF!' Tyler yelled in a panic, suddenly recovering his voice and the use of his legs. Pointing at it, Tyler stumbled backwards, landed on his backside and, yelping like something had grabbed him, scrambled round and tried to clamber back up the slope. '_WEREWOLF!' _

High-pitched squeals of horror rang through the trees as John, Luke, Edward, Lindsey and Rosie all panicked and ran blindly in circles before disappearing from the fence.

The werewolf jerked its head round. Eyes alight with madness, the beast fixed its gaze on the floundering teenager. Larger than the other creature by the water, it was struggling; an easy kill …

The powerful muscles in the beasts' shoulders and legs propelled it through the air with such speed Remus had barely blinked before the huge wolf was down the slope, past him and about to leap over the creak. Tyler was scrabbling furiously at the earth, his shoes slipping on the damp ground. He was only a few feet from the fence. But it wasn't close enough.

Without thinking any more than was necessary, Remus threw the Quaffle with all his might. The ball smacked the wolf on the head. It faltered in mid-leap and landed awkwardly on the edge of the bank, missing Tyler by inches. The huge paws slipped into the water and the animal threw its head back, an enraged howl erupting from its jaws. Its head snapped round, eyes blazing.

Tyler, panting and gibbering in his panic, shot up the slope and vaulted the fence.

'WEREWOLF!' he yelled again, his voice ragged and growing rapidly faint as he ran away. 'IN THE WOODS! _WEREWOLF!'_

It happened so fast Remus didn't have time to even think.

His breath was coming in short hiccoughing gasps, and he only succeeded in taking one step towards the fence, when a blur of grey flew at him with a savage cry. Remus was violently knocked off his feet and the sharp, serrated fangs sank deep into his side. Pain exploded in his chest, ripping through his body. Partly stunned, Remus couldn't make a sound until the wolf pinned him down, released and bit again. A scream of pain was torn from his throat, mingled with a plea for help. But the wolf lifted him up again, it's teeth sinking deeper into his flesh, and started to run.

-o-

A fiery blaze of candles atop a monster of a cake was levitated out of the house and brought over to Tarquin as the assembled crowd sang at the top of their voices. He would have considered it deafening had he not been partially deaf in one ear already. Looking round at all the beaming faces, the modest pile of gifts awaiting his attention once the cake was cut and shared out, Tarquin Ottoman had to admit, that regardless of his initial protests, this party was certainly going to be one to be remembered.

-o-

The wolf bounded a short way down the creak, the water splashing and soaking its fur, but it ignored it. Blood, warm, coppery, fresh flowing blood poured into its mouth. The prey, small and struggling weakly, was helpless to fight back. It let out a wail of agony, but it hadn't the strength to call to its pack for help. Short limbs flailed and tried to strike out, but it was weakening fast. Blood was everywhere. Another cry escaped the wounded two-legged creature. Distressed and shaking uncontrollably, the wolf dropped it. The young creature could barely voice its pain as it fell to the ground. It lay still, curling up into a ball and whimpering. Water streamed from its eyes, trickling down its pale face. The wide eyes peered up at its killer, not understanding why, but knowing in that instant, that it was about to die.

Eyes locked on the exposed throat, the wolf went in for the kill.

-o-

At first, no one heard the cry. Everyone was still singing Happy Birthday at the top of their lungs and it wasn't until they'd reached the last line did the panicked cry permeated the rest of the noise.

'Werewolf!' someone was shouting from the end of the garden. 'Werewolf! Someone, help!'

People on the edge of the crowd caught the words first and turned, curiously, disbelievingly, toward the young man running to them like a Quintaped was on his heels. A few people muttered and dismissed his inaudible cries almost immediately.

'Only that Tyler brat.'

'What's _he_ doing here anyway?

'You'd think his parents would have left him at home if they'd had any sense.'

But one look at his ashen face, Julian knew the fear wasn't fake. Diane clutched his arm as Tyler skidded to a halt, gesturing wildly back towards the woods.

'Werewolf!' he gasped, his chest heaving. 'In the woods! It's after me!'

For a second no one was sure what to think, whether he was telling yet another lie or not, but then children who had been playing down at the bottom of garden caught up, all of them screaming and crying.

'There's a big wolf!'

'The monster's by the creak!'

'It was gonna eat us!'

'Mummy!'

'It's a werewolf!'

Diane's heart slammed against her chest. Where was Remus? Eyes darting frantically among the squabbling group, she couldn't see him.

'Where's Remus?' she cried, darting forward and grabbing Tyler's arm. 'Where's my son?'

'What?' Tyler seemed about to faint, staring blankly at her.

'My son! Light brown hair, this high – _where is he?_'

'Back there,' Tyler finally croaked, sinking to his knees and gesturing limply towards the woods.

Diane's eyes widened. The air went ice cold and vanished from her lungs. Julian too was struck dumb for a moment. All around, people were starting to panic. Some of the wizards were trying to organise a group to go down and investigate, others insisting on calling the Ministry. All the while, Patricia Ottoman was looking positively scandalised and trying to restore calm, claiming there was nothing to be concerned about. Mothers hastily gathered their children and ran for the safety of the house.

But not Diane.

'Remus!' she shouted. 'REMUS!'

Taking off at a run, Diane sprinted down the garden, pulling her wand from her pocket as she ran. Julian raced after her.

'No! Diane, don't!'

She ignored him. Legs pumping, one of her shoes flew off but she didn't falter. Several other wizards had grabbed their wands and followed, but they were several paces back.

Reaching the fence, Diane screamed hoarsely into the night.

'REMUS! WHERE ARE YOU?'

A vicious snarl from beyond the fence was her only answer. Julian raced past her and vaulted over the fence. He slid down the earthy slope and staggered at the bottom, splashing into the water running through the ditch.

'REMUS!' he bellowed, eyes frantically searching the darkness but seeing nothing but shadows.

Then he spotted it. Two gleaming eyes, low to the ground and twenty feet away up the creak, was the beast. Heart pounding, Julian swung his wand round and cast a shield over himself in case the animal charged.

It was a werewolf, and it was enormous. It was bigger than Julian had imagined they would be. At least the size of a small horse if it stood up tall, the monster was hunched over in the water, holding something in its jaws. Snarling, the beast shook what looked like nothing more than a limp sack, flopping about in the clutches of the animal.

Julian's entire body seemed to freeze … he couldn't breathe … this wasn't happening … it couldn't be …

The wolf unceremoniously dropped what it was carrying. It splashed into the water and a shaft of moonlight caught the bloodstained honey-brown head.

The world had stopped spinning. The ground was falling away.

Then a faint whimper reached Julian's ears and a mixture of horror and hope filled his heart.

His son was still alive.

The wolf moved to stand over the small body, growling menacingly. The eyes were rolling and mad with the bloodlust. Quivering, the wolf held its ground, determined to defend its kill.

Anger, horror, a boiling rage surged through Julian's blood, fuelled by the horrific scream of his wife behind him. Diane had followed him. Raising his wand, Julian bellowed a curse. A streak of silver-white light cracked through the air like a bolt of lightning. It hit the water in front of the wolf, sending a great splash of water up in its face. It snapped its jaws and took a step forward. Julian bellowed again, and this time the spell struck the werewolf across the face. With a primal scream of pain, the wolf lurched backwards, shaking its head. Blood poured from the wound. Blinded, the werewolf spun, confused and disorientated. Julian shouted the spell a third time, taking a huge risk in running towards it. He missed, but the wolf, wounded and under attack, suddenly fled into the darkness. With a huge leap, the wolf was up the slope and into the woods. In the blink of an eye, it was gone.

'REMUS!'

Hysterical, Diane threw herself down into the water and scrambled over to her son. He wasn't moving. Blood was flowing with the bubbling water, pumping from a horrendous wound spanning the boy's entire chest.

Blinded by tears and screaming hoarsely, Diane drew Remus into her lap and cradled him, calling his name over and over. Julian dropped into the shallow water beside them.

'Remus?' he called, feeling the child's neck for a pulse. 'Remus, can you hear me?' Struggling to breathe, he raised his head and shouted to the wizards who had reached the fence and had frozen out of fear at the sight of the werewolf. 'We need some help! Someone get a Healer! NOW!'

'Mummy,' came a frightened whimper from Diane's lap, barely audible. She let out a cry, half joy and half grief, as Remus opened his eyes. He couldn't seem to focus them on anything.

'Shh,' said Diane, stroking his hair with a violently trembling hand. 'It's okay, sweetheart, you're okay, mummy's here …'

There was blood everywhere. Remus' skin was deathly pale and cold to the touch. He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but the last of his strength left him. He let out a shallow breath, his eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp in her arms.

'Remus?' Diane called, panic swelling in her chest once more in a searing wave. 'REMUS!'

Breaking down in tears, Diane Lupin screamed incoherently into the night, her husband Julian at her side, tears streaming down his face and shaking uncontrollably.

High above them, the full moon glowed red, and a distant, wounded howl sounded on the wind.

-o-

**_To Be Continued …_**

**** -o-

****

**__**

Please leave a review. All comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thank you.


	2. Isolation

**Chapter Two: Isolation.**

There was darkness all around him.  Shadows darted in and out of sight, almost birds screaming a warning that wasn't in time.  Remus ran through the trees, breathless and petrified.  It was right behind him, he could feel it, and he couldn't outrun it.  A thunderous howl echoed in his ears, mingled with cries of pain. 

Crashing through another bush, Remus lurched and tumbled down a steep slope.  With a shout, he pitched forward into a shallow stream.  For a brief moment, his head slipped under the surface.  He came up gasping, splashing in a panic.  He spat out a mouthful of water, only to realise a second later that it was blood.  Eyes widening in comprehension, he slowly looked down.  Swirling around him was his own blood, flowing where the stream had been not a moment before.  A pair of glowing yellow eyes suddenly blinked up at him from the dark crimson swirls.  With a yelp of fright, Remus struggled to stand, but something invisible seemed to be holding him down.  He couldn't rise.  Growing ever more panicked by the second with tears rolling down his cheeks, Remus managed to lift his head.

A full moon hung in the night sky above him, glowing through the gnarled branches of the trees.  The silvery white orb appeared almost beautiful to his eyes … then a red glow swam over its surface, and Remus heard a vicious snarl behind him.

The werewolf was suddenly there, exactly as before. It was poised high on the opposite bank, half concealed in the shadows and the trees.  The glowing yellow eyes swept over the area, the pupils dilated and black nose was snuffling and sniffing, trying to seek out its prey.

Curling himself up small and making desperate attempts to stifle his whimpering, Remus couldn't tear his eyes away from the monster, to close them, to pretend he couldn't see, to stop it seeing him …

Gleaming like jewels, the yellow eyes locked onto his own.

Frozen were he lay, all Remus could feel was the painful drumming of his heart beating in his chest.  All he could hear was his ragged breath coming in short pants.

The werewolf leapt from its hiding place and Remus screamed, but his voice refused to be heard.  Like a whisper in the night, no one could hear it.

Pain exploded in his chest, a monstrous paw was pinning him down … blood and tears blinding him, the only thing Remus saw was the razor sharp fangs as they went for his throat –

'_NO!_'

With a tremendous jerk, Remus Lupin sprang upright with a petrified scream.  His chest heaving and his head spinning, he fell backwards and kicked out instinctively.  Thin sheets gave way and Remus flung them off him in alarm.  Just as suddenly, Remus froze.  Trembling, he lifted his head and stared about him, his blue-grey eyes wide and confused.

He was in a long room with oak panelled walls and several beds.  A small window to his right offered a limited view of an overcast sky and a little cabinet beside the bed he was lying in held an oil lamp.  Slowly, his eyes travelling from one empty bed to the next, Remus noticed the parchment charts attached to the bedposts and potion bottles neatly arranged on one table at his end of the room.  The only door was down the other end.  It struck him straight away that he was alone.  The other beds in the room were neatly made up and had clearly been unoccupied.

Where was he?  Remus' chest tightened at the thought.  How did he get here?  Where was this place?  Why was he alone?  Where were his parents?

A growing sense of unease in his stomach, Remus kicked off the sheets.  He was wearing a white night shirt that certainly didn't belong to him.  It felt stiff and scratchy.  Sitting up, Remus swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  Then a wave of nausea washed over him.  Remus clutched his stomach uncertainly, and as he did so, an abrupt recollection of sharp teeth came to him.  His heart started to pound rapidly. He couldn't breathe. What was wrong with him? 

Afraid to move, Remus stayed perfectly still, struggling to take a few deep breaths. When the dizzy spell finally passed and he felt a little steadier, Remus carefully got down from the bed.  Padding across the floor on his bare feet, Remus hurried over to the window.  It was too high for him to see clearly out of.  Standing on tiptoes he caught a glimpse of some tall buildings, but none that he recognised.

His uncertainty mounting, Remus looked around the room again.  Detecting a strong, very clean sort of smell on the air, Remus started to piece together the few clues in the strange room.  Then it dawned on him.  He was in a hospital.  He'd heard his father say something about St. Mungo's Hospital to his mother some time ago, but Remus had never seen it before.  Now it seemed he was inside it.  But why, and how did he get here?

The charts.  There was one hanging on the end of the bed he'd woken up in.  Peering at the messy writing on the square parchment Remus found his name and date of birth at the top, followed by his father's name and another name he didn't know.   The next line was harder to read, not only for the poor handwriting but there were some long words Remus had never seen before and after a few unsuccessful attempts to pronounce them under his breath, he gave up and scanned the rest of the chart.  But he couldn't understand any of the medical terms scrawled across it.  None of it made any sense, and it didn't tell him how or why he was in this place.

Giving up, Remus turned his attention to his next, and more pressing problem.

'Mum?' he tentatively said out loud.  No answer.  Raising his voice a little, he tried again.  'Mum?  Dad?' 

Still nothing.

Remus' breathing sped up again.  Panic swept over him and without knowing why, he started to shout.

'MUM!  DAD!  _Where are you?_'

Head pounding, Remus sat down heavily on the floor, his legs shaking.  Suddenly, a chill washed over him and the image of a shadowy monster appeared in his mind's eye; a monster with horrible, glowing yellow eyes.

'_MUM!_'

The scream echoed round the room, followed by hollow, choking sobs.  Unable to grasp anything other than that something wanted to hurt him, _had _hurt him, Remus wanted his mother so badly he couldn't get up off the floor.  He curled up in a protective ball and trembled.  His voice wavering, he cried out again and dissolved into tears.

Then, he felt a series of vibrations through the floor.  Heavy, rapid footsteps were coming this way.  A flicker of hope and relief swelled in Remus' heart.  His mother was coming.  She'd heard him and was coming for him.  He wasn't alone.

Lifting his head and turning his tear-stained face to the door, Remus' heart gave a leap as it was flung open.

But at the sight of the stranger that loomed in the doorway, Remus' heart fell back down into his chest in disappointment, and a little fear. 

The tall, dark woman resembled a rather large pig in tight-fitting lime-green robes that was fighting to stay upright.  Her black hair was tied back so severely that her forehead appeared stretched. Her double chin wobbled as she turned her head sharply, her eyes narrowing as they spotted Remus lying on the floor.

'What's all this racket?' she snapped, in a thick accent.  'Get up off the floor.'

Remus stared up at her and blinked.  Her frown deepened and the witch stomped across the threshold, pulling her wand from her pocket.

'Get back into bed at once!  You shouldn't be wandering around.'

Shaking, Remus hastily scrambled to his feet.   The witch flapped her arms trying to drive Remus back to his bed.  But Remus, unsure of himself, didn't move.  The witch drew up short.  A peculiar sort of sneer settled on her face as she renewed her efforts.

'Do you not understand English?' she said cruelly.  'Move!'

'Please,' said Remus softly, 'where am I?'

The witch scoffed, like anyone with an ounce of intelligence would know, but Remus was desperate for confirmation.

'St. Mungo's, now get yourself back into bed,' she said shortly.

'Where's my mum and dad?'

'Can't you do as you're told?'  The witch stood with her hands on her hips.  'Get into that bed before I Bind you to it!'

Remus turned and dashed back down the room, climbed back onto his bed and pulled the sheets up over his legs, watching the witch apprehensively.

'Where's my mum and dad?' he asked again as the witch stomped past the bed to the potion table at the far end.

'Visiting hours are from four to seven,' was the curt reply.  The witch kept her back to Remus as she started to mix potions together.

Remus glanced around the room for a clock but saw none.  He hesitated, then asked, 'When will that be?'

A potion bottle slammed down on the table making him jump.  The witch threw him a contemptuous look as she spun round to face him.  Remus fell silent.  Taking slow, heavy steps, the witch advanced on him.  Pausing a few feet from the bed, she used her wand to send a child-sized goblet and a dark blue potion bottle flying over to the bedside cabinet.  They hit the surface with a sharp clunk, nearly toppling over.

'Drink it,' said the witch.

Remus looked at it.

'What is it?' he asked.

The witch crossed her fat arms over her chest, looking down her bulbous nose at him.

'It'll make you sleep.'

Considering that he'd just woken from a nightmare, Remus was less than keen on taking it.

'No, thank you,' he mumbled.

The witch's eyebrows shot up.  Swelling like a bullfrog, the witch made to move closer.  Remus flinched.  The witch suddenly stopped, her beady eyes flicking over the child, and then drew back.  Instead, she raised her wand again and jabbed it at the potion bottle.  It shot up into the air and tilted, pouring a dark green liquid into the goblet, some of it slopping over the rim and all over the cabinet.  The potion bottle stayed up in the air as the witch made the goblet rise and hover directly in front of Remus' face.  The boy's wide eyes darted from the goblet to the witch's scowling face.  Why she was so angry, Remus didn't know.  He hadn't done anything wrong.

'Drink it,' said the witch, her wand aimed at the goblet.

'But I don't want to sleep,' Remus protested, trying to hold the goblet away with his hand.  'I just want to know where my mum and dad are!'

As he started to get off the bed again, the witch practically leapt backwards, making a peculiar sound, half disgust and half … what?  Fear?  Remus caught the tone and stopped.  Breathing heavily, the witch seemed furious.

'Stay right there or I'll call the head Healer!' she barked.  A malicious light sparkled in her eyes.  'You either drink that potion _now_, or you'll be _forced_ to drink it.  Understand?'

No, he didn't.  Completely mystified by the stranger's attitude and behaviour, Remus had no idea what to make of it all.  But he didn't like the sound of being forced to do anything.  Remus slowly retreated, and when the witch visibly relaxed, he tentatively reached for the goblet, still hovering in the air.

He sniffed it.  The potion didn't smell too bad.  Taking a tiny sip, Remus winced.  It was very sour.  He looked over the rim at the witch.  She stood there, watching him like a hawk.  Pinching his nose, Remus tilted his head back and obediently swallowed as much as he could without tasting it.  Taking a gasp of air, he set it back on the cabinet beside him.

But the witch didn't appear satisfied.  Her snout-like nose wrinkled and her lip curling, she used her wand to conjure a black bag and, with a forceful sweep, sent both the goblet and the potion bottle flying inside.  The black bag sealed itself and the witch muttered a spell under her breath, jabbing her wand once more at the bag.

There was a muffled bang and the bag suddenly inflated like a balloon.  Puffs of grey smoke seeped out of two tiny holes at the edges, and the bag deflated until it was completely flat.  It was empty.

Remus opened his mouth to question as to what had happened to the goblet when an irresistible wave of tiredness washed over him.  A yawn came out instead and his eyelids felt so heavy he could barely keep them open.  The potion was working fast.  The room was blurring.  In the few seconds Remus managed to hold on to consciousness, he saw the witch summon the chart from the end of his bed with a quill, before he slumped back on the pillows and knew no more.

 -o-

How long Remus stayed asleep, he didn't know; all he knew was that he was suddenly awake again and that he hadn't had another nightmare, for which he was glad.  He lay there in peaceful darkness for a little while.  The thought that everything that had happened to him was all just a bad dream and that he was back home was so enticing that he almost didn't want to open his eyes, in case he was wrong.

Then a new sound reached his ears.  Voices, whispering, but close by.  He knew those voices.

He opened his eyes.  He was on his back and all he could see was the blurry ceiling.  Blinking hard, Remus lifted a hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

'Remus?' came a startled voice.

'Mum?'  Remus struggled to focus his eyes on the blur of long brown hair framing a pasty white face as it leaned over him. 

'Remus!  Oh, thank goodness!'

His mother's arms encircled his chest as Remus scrabbled to sit up and flung his arms around her neck.  Diane hugged him fiercely, nearly crushing the air out of his lungs.  Remus, however, felt like a great weight had been lifted off his chest.  Finally able to see clearly, he tried to look for his father, but was saved the trouble as another pair of arms wrapped themselves tightly around him and his mother with a joyous cry.

But it was surprisingly short-lived.  Diane drew back from her son and held him at arms length, her eyes red and swollen.  Remus felt an unsettling sensation in the pit of his stomach.  His father didn't look much better.  Julian's usually neatly combed brown hair was stuck up in all directions and his clothes were as rumpled as though he'd slept in them.  His eyes too, looked like he'd been crying.

It wasn't difficult for Remus to figure out that something was wrong.  But even if his mother and father had looked perfectly normal and smiling, somehow Remus could tell there was something amiss.  It _felt_ wrong.

'Oh, sweetheart,' Diane whispered hoarsely as she ran a hand over his head to get his hair out of his eyes.  'How are you?'

'I'm okay,' said Remus, but as his parents exchanged fleeting glances, he wondered if it were true.

Turning back to her son, Diane sniffed and gave him a watery smile.  Unable to speak, she wrapped her arms around him again and held him close.   Remus slumped against her warm body and closed his eyes.  He could feel her quaking beneath his touch.  Then he stiffened.  Her gentle hands had slid slowly down his back, feeling carefully.  Remus squirmed and pulled back a little.

'Mum, that tickles,' he protested with a small laugh.

'Sorry,' Diane whispered.  Seeing the haunted look in her eyes, Remus stopped smiling.  She slowly raised her hand again and reached for him.  He stayed perfectly still in silent acquiescence as she gently touched his chest.  As her hand traced a light path down his chest to his stomach, Remus closed his eyes.  His head was starting to throb.  Diane's hand hesitated for a brief moment. 

'Remus, will you lift your shirt up, please?' she whispered, her voice quivering.

'Diane,' hissed Julian.  He sounded angry, yet pleading.  'Please, don't.  You know what they said-'

'I need to see,' said Diane softly.

Puzzled, Remus did as she asked and slowly lifted his shirt up, exposing a strip of bare flesh.

His mother stared blankly for a moment.  Then, her eyes tearing up, she shook her head and covered her mouth with a hand, failing to stifle a sob.  Julian said nothing, but his eyes betrayed his emotions.

Confused, Remus looked down.

A huge dark mark, puckered by half-healed jagged scar tissue, marred his skin.  Remus almost ripped the shirt as he pulled if off.   The ugly mark spread across his chest and down his stomach.  It looked awful.  Diane closed her eyes, opened them again and then half turned like she couldn't bear to look, yet couldn't tear her eyes away.   Gazing at his discoloured skin, Remus touched it carefully.  It didn't hurt.  He certainly hadn't even realised it was there.  Running his fingertips over the mark, Remus felt it as it curved round his middle and halfway across his back.

His head was pounding and his breathing quickened.  As Remus closed his eyes, the image of long, sharp teeth coming towards him flashed in front of him.

'It – it bit me,' he whispered.  'The wolf … it bit me …'

'We know, darling,' Diane whispered back. She was shaking almost as much as Remus.

'It was going to k-kill me …'

'It's all right,' said Julian.  He got up from his seat and sat down on the bed beside his son and draped a comforting arm around his shoulders.  Remus leaned onto him, letting the tears fall.  'I scared it off … it's not coming back.'

Remus just nodded.  He remembered nothing of his parents finding him half-dead in the water.  But his father's words were of some comfort.  The wolf wasn't coming back to hurt him again.  The nightmare was over.

A small smile tugged at Remus' lips at the thought and gradually he calmed down, his father holding and reassuring him. 

Rubbing his eyes dry, beginning to feel like a baby for crying so much, Remus sat up properly and said, 'I want to go home.'

Diane smiled, but it seemed forced.

'We'll be going home soon.  We just need to talk to the Healers first.'

Remus frowned.  The Healer who had seen him earlier hadn't been very nice at all and the Sleep Potion had been nasty.

As if on cue, a knock came on the door of the ward, and an elderly wizard in the same uniform of lime-green robes with a crossed wand and bone emblem on the chest entered the room.  He had a shiny bald head and horn-rimmed glasses, with a white quill tucked behind his ear.  As he walked towards them, he gave the Lupins a gravely sympathetic look, like he'd just entered a funeral reception.

'Mr and Mrs Lupin?' he inquired, quite unnecessary for they were the only couple in the room.  'I'm Healer Dilwert, we spoke the other day regarding …' He made a limp gesture with his hand and carried on.  'I'm afraid we have done all we can for him now.'

Diane and Julian nodded.  Remus looked from one to the other, then to the Healer.

'Can I go home now?' he piped up, hopefully.

The Healer threw Remus an appraising glance, like he hadn't expected the child to address him.  Dilwert shook his head and spoke to Julian.

'Mr Lupin, there are a few forms you are required to fill in before your son may be discharged from hospital … and there is a Mr. Cuttlesworth waiting to see you.'

Julian frowned.

'And who is he?'

'He's from the Ministry,' said Dilwert.  'He's waiting for you in my office.'

An hour later, Remus was dressed and seated between his mother and father in a large office with oak furniture.  Several Healing degrees adorned the walls alongside a few framed photographs of people who Remus assumed were Healer Dilwert's family, and a large portrait of a spindly witch with very short blond hair examining an eyeball in a bottle of greenish fluid.  The caption underneath read: _Dorcas Featherston, creator of the Prolapsed Eyeball Curse and its counter-jinx. _  

Healer Dilwert had shown the Lupins inside and left them with Mr Cuttlesworth.  Mr Cuttlesworth was a well-built wizard of about thirty years with neat black hair, a straight nose and what Remus felt was a rather smarmy smile.  The Ministry wizard had invited the Lupins to sit before taking Healer Dilwert's chair and folding his small hands together on the desk in front of him.

'Now then,' he began, putting on a pair of reading glasses and riffling through the large pile of parchment he'd pulled out of his briefcase, 'I can assure you both that this is a very simple procedure, just a few forms to fill in and you'll be on your way.'

'Um, excuse me,' said Diane, raising her hand tentatively, though her face was stern.  'What _are_ these forms for?  And why do _you_ need to talk to us?'

'Well, you must understand there are procedures to follow,' said Mr Cuttlesworth, sanctimoniously.  'After incidents such as this we must ensure that every precaution is taken … given the implications of the, _ahem,_' he cleared his throat noisily, '_condition_,' he finished in a half-cough.

Julian and Diane frowned.  Remus just sat in silence and listened.

'Ah, here we are.'  With a flourish, Mr Cuttlesworth laid a sheet of yellowish parchment before Julian and handed him a quill.  'It's all very simple, just fill in your name in full, your wife's name, name of the afflicted, dates of birth for all, date of the incident, time and location and so and so forth.'

'Name of the afflicted?' Diane repeated, incredulously.

Mr Cuttlesworth flashed her an indulgent smile.

'The boy,' he clarified.  'And we'll need to take a photograph for our records, which will have to be updated every five years.'

Julian was speed-reading the form, his brow furrowed.

'What department are you from?' he asked, lifting his head.

'I represent the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,' said the wizard grandly, puffing up his chest like it was the most important announcement he could make.

'Which division?'

Mr Cuttlesworth cast Julian a look, before answering curtly, 'The Beast Division.'

Diane drew back and folded her arms.

'And what, exactly, makes this any of your business?  We've already discussed everything with the Healers - '

'Who dutifully informed the Ministry straight away,' interrupted the wizard.  He fixed Diane with a stern look, leaning towards her.  'Madam, your son was attacked by a werewolf … now I'm sure that the Healers have explained all the minor details to you regarding after-affects, but I am a Ministry representative whose duty is to ensure that all relevant information regarding such incidents are kept on file for the purpose of public safety.  Your son's name shall be included on the register with his current address and occupation, if applicable.   We _must _be informed of _any _changes to that information _immediately_.  There can be no exceptions.  Failure to comply will result in a hefty fine, or even a term of imprisonment.

'Now, then …' The wizard pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down it at Remus, who had stayed silent throughout the conversation so far, and gave what he apparently believed was a kindly smile.  'Do you remember what happened to you the night you were attacked?'

Mutely, Remus nodded.  His mother put an arm protectively around his shoulders, glaring suspiciously at the Ministry wizard.  He ignored her.  He leaned forward, closer to Remus.  Remus subtly drew back.

'Where were you that night?'

Remus swallowed hard.

'I was at Mr Ottoman's house,' he began, nervously.  The wizard was staring at him intently and he found it very unsettling.  'I was in the garden with the other kids, we were playing with a Quaffle by the fence.'

Mr Cuttlesworth nodded and gestured for him to continue.  Diane and Julian were listening carefully too, for they had not had the opportunity to ask Remus about it beforehand.

Brow furrowed, Remus struggled to remember.  It was all rather hazy.

'Tyler stole it from us,' he said, thinking hard.  'He wouldn't give it back … I told him to give it back … and he threw it over the fence.'

'Into the woods?' said Mr Cuttlesworth.

'Yes,' said Remus.

'And you went after it?'

Remus nodded.

Diane put a hand over her mouth.

'Remus!  Why in Merlin's Name did you go into the woods?  You know never to go off like that!'

'But, Mum, I had to get the Quaffle back!' Remus cried.  His mother sounded angry with him, but he had a good reason.  'You said I wasn't to lose it!'

Diane abruptly fell silent.  Her large brown eyes stared down at her son.  Remus, scared she was going to be angry with him anyway, carried on, trying to explain.

'It was only on the other side, in the water at the bottom, I was only going to be a minute …' 

He trailed off.  Tears were welling in his mother's eyes and she was struggling to hold them back.  Dropping his gaze, Remus fell silent and put his hands in his lap.  He'd been naughty, and it always upset his mother when he was.  He tried hard not to upset her, but he'd only done what he'd thought was right.

After a few seconds, Mr Cuttlesworth cleared his throat again.

'So you went to get the Quaffle,' he stated.  'Then what happened?'

'I … I saw …'

Again, Remus fell silent.

'What?' said Cuttlesworth impatiently.  'The werewolf?'

Remus closed his eyes.   He could still see it.  The glowing yellow eyes staring deep into his own … the monstrous shape in the shadows … the horrible cry it made … the teeth rushing towards him … and the pain –

Shaking, Remus buried his face into his mother's side and clung to her.  Diane gently rocked him back and forth, desperate to calm him.  Anxiously, Julian moved over and put a hand on Remus' shoulder.

Cuttlesworth heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

'Come along now, I haven't got all day - can you describe the creature that bit you?'

Only several loud sniffs came by way of reply.

'What colour was it?  Black?  Grey?  Brown?'

'I – I don't know,' Remus mumbled through the tears.

'Was it large for a werewolf?  Full-grown would you say?  Any distinctive markings?'

'Have you no heart?' snapped Julian fiercely.  Turning an enraged face to the contemptuous wizard, Julian fixed Cuttlesworth with a glare a Basilisk would have been proud of.  'Can't you see you're frightening him?  He's only a child!'

'He's a witness,' stated Cuttlesworth coldly.  'We require a description of the offending lycanthrope in order to trace him, or her.'

'My son has just woken up after four days unconscious!  He's upset, and disorientated with a bloody great scar all over his chest and hasn't any idea what's happened to him!  How _dare_ you interrogate him like this!'

'It's a necessary procedure,' repeated Cuttlesworth, with no emotion in his voice whatsoever.  'And as for the scar it will fade soon enough.  Bite marks from a werewolf heal very quickly, leaving little or no trace within a matter of weeks.'

Remus, hardly able to hear over the sound of his own croaky sobs, caught the last part and felt a tiny flare of hope.  That ugly mark would fade in a few weeks.  His mother and father wouldn't get upset by having to look at it any more.

'That doesn't give you the right to interrogate him like he has no feelings!' said Julian, getting to his feet.  The sheer indifference in Cuttlesworth's face was enough to make Julian want to hex the obnoxious wizard's head up his own arse.

Leaning back in the chair, the Ministry wizard regarded Julian thoughtfully, carefully ignoring the sobbing child and increasingly distressed mother sitting across the table from him.

'Tell me, Mr Lupin, has anyone explained to you _exactly_ what that bite means for the boy?'

Curtly, Julian nodded.

'Yes, the Healers told us,' he managed to say through gritted teeth.

'Then you understand what will happen in a few weeks … what he will become … or to be more precise, what he _is._  I shall be requesting a description of the boy's form by the end of the month, his colour and any distinguishing markings that will enable us to identify him should he cause any trouble.'

Trouble; there was that word again.  Remus had only caught the gist of the conversation and barely understood what the wizard was talking about, but judging by the expressions on his parents' faces he knew they weren't happy with what they were being told.  Indeed, his father looked furious.

'How dare you,' he growled. 'Do you honestly expect us to deal with this like it's all a simple matter of taking a few notes?  This is our son's life we're talking about!'  Julian's voice was breaking as he ploughed on.  'The Healers have told us there's nothing they can do, that's it's incurable – we need help, not vilification!  You can't ignore what has happened.'

'I can assure you, Mr Lupin, that the Ministry is taking this matter very seriously indeed.  The spread of this disease is difficult to monitor and control without some sort of system in place to keep track of those infected.  You must assume the responsibility of keeping this under control … although if you don't feel that you'll be able to cope with the demands of having such a child in your care, then there are other options available to you.'

Julian and Diane exchanged a suspicious look.

'Such as?' asked Julian, his voice cold, but steady.

'Turn the child over to the custody of the Ministry and we shall reinstate him within a secure compound with others of his kind.  He will be well cared for and protected, I can assure you.'

But Diane was not convinced by the smarmy smile.

'You mean to send him to some kind of institution, or an orphanage?' she cried.

Cuttlesworth looked offended and laughed her statement aside.

'Oh, no, nothing like an orphanage … most of the residents there are more mature yet have difficulty in accepting their situation and thus require constant care and attention to prevent self-harm.'

'Sounds like a prison to me,' Diane hissed to Julian, who nodded his agreement.  She turned back to Cuttlesworth.  'I'm sorry, sir, but what you are proposing is out of the question; I will _never_ send my child to some mental institution.  He is _seven years old_ and needs the support of his family.'

Mr Cuttlesworth merely nodded.

'Perhaps … though with all due respect I should warn you of the dangers associated with rearing such a child.  There have been a few cases such as this in the past, whereby the relations have tried to carry on as if nothing has happened and the results … well … they were disastrous.  It was foolish and downright dangerous but they refused the Ministry's aid.  In the end, after several close calls, they opted for euthanasia on the advice of the Ministry.'  He twisted his thin lips into a mockery of a smile.  'It would be the kindest thing.'

A stunned, horrified silence greeted this pronouncement.

Diane was breathing heavily through her nose.  Julian was glaring murderously at Cuttlesworth but Diane beat him to it.

'Get out,' she said, her tone very dangerous.  'Get out … now.'

Cuttlesworth gave a huff of distaste.

'Well, I never -'

'You are a bigoted, snide, cruel, twisted excuse for a man who has no idea as to the meaning of _kindness_.'  Diane's voice was getting louder very quickly.  Remus stayed silent, to scared to say a word, looking from each of his parents to the Ministry wizard in dismay.  'How dare you suggest such a thing?  It's inhumane – I'm reporting you to your superiors about this!'

'By all means, call them,' said Cuttlesworth, bustling about and repacking his briefcase with calm indifference.  'But I sincerely doubt they'll tell you any different.  Your options are limited, and I suggest you chose wisely, for if he is ever responsible for the death of a human being, then euthanasia is the _only_ option. There is an office for Support Services in the Being Division, though its aid is limited,' he added with a distasteful sneer and so hurriedly it seemed he didn't feel the information to be of particular importance.  'I shall expect those forms to be sent to the Ministry as soon as they are complete.'

Julian had had enough.  He stood up, his hands balled into fists.

'You've said what you came here to say – now _get out!_' he roared.

Jumping about a foot in the air, Cuttlesworth scurried out of the room, looking scandalised.

Breathing heavily, Julian sank back onto his chair and covered his face with his hands.  Ashen faced, Diane held Remus close and gently rocked back and forth, staring into space.

Remus remained silent.  His mind was buzzing with questions but refrained from voicing them. 

_Why are they so upset,_ he wondered.  _I don't understand … why would that wizard want to send me away?_

'Mum?'

Diane lifted her head and looked at him through teary eyes.

'I'm sorry.'

Diane's brow knitted in concern and puzzlement.

'What for?' she asked softly.

'For going in the woods …' Remus kept his eyes on his lap.  His mother's disappointment was sure to be worse than her anger.  'I – I only wanted to get Mr. Ottoman's Quaffle back … I didn't know that the w-were … the wolf … I didn't … I didn't mean to be bad.'

His pronouncement was met with stunned silence.  He kept his head down and spoke to his lap, or at least he tried to.  But all that came out were a few mumbled syllables and a stifled sob.  His mother pulled him closer and hushed him, her voice breaking.

'Oh, sweetheart … you didn't do anything wrong …'

Remus closed his eyes, a leaden sensation in his stomach.  Sniffing, he asked, 'Why did that wizard want to send me away?'

'It doesn't matter,' said Julian firmly.  He knelt down beside Remus to make sure his son could see him.  Eyes full of tears, Remus reluctantly looked at his father.  'No one is sending you anywhere.  You're coming home with us, okay?'

Remus blinked, and nodded.  But he had another question.

'What's eu – eutha – that big word the wizard used?'

'Euthanasia?' his father repeated the word anxiously.

Remus nodded.

Julian exchanged a look with Diane.  She looked horrified.  Both were at a loss for what to say.  When no answer came, Remus didn't know what to do.  He was growing frustrated at his lack of understanding, but judging by his mother and father's reaction, he knew it wasn't good.

'It's a bad word,' said Julian, struggling to phrase it so the full meaning wouldn't frighten his son anymore than he already was.  'But I don't want you to ask about it again, all right?'

It wasn't a full answer, but Remus nodded acceptance of the instruction regardless.  It didn't make him feel any better though.  He drew himself out of his mother's embrace and looked up at her.

'Mum, I'm okay,' he said, wanting to stop her crying.  Tears were rolling silently down her cheeks and her lip was trembling.  'I'm better now; I'm okay.'

'I know,' whispered Diane, stroking his soft, honey-brown hair tenderly. She forced a watery smile and wrapped her arms around him.  'I know.'

But it was a terrible lie.

Julian and Diane Lupin knew the truth; that their beloved child was anything but fine.

And he never would be.

 -o-

**_To Be Continued …_**

 -o-

Please leave a review.  All comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.

 -o-

**Author's Notes.**

**Aerlalaith – **Yay, my first reviewer!  I'm glad you liked the opening chapter.  

**Whisperinthenight – **I had so much fun writing that scene.  Wish I could do it over and over again.

**NightSpear – **I'm pleased you liked all the characters.  Tyler is based on someone who used to pick on me when I was at school.  Different name, same attitude.  I was very tempted to let the werewolf kill him purely for my own sadistic revenge, but he's needed later.  Aw, that's so nice of you to say so! I'm blushing. I've read quite a few variations myself so I had to come up with something a bit different.

As for posting – I hope to post once a week, although there may come a time when I catch up with myself and have to post as and when the chapters get written.  I have chapter three ready to go, so I'm good for next week.  That should give me enough time to get chapter four finished and on to chapter five.  I've got the first twenty chapters or so plotted out; the rest needs fine-tuning.  If I am unable to post for any reason, I will put a notice on my bio page.

**Pallas – **Thank you very much!  I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic.

**Lil Lupin – **Yes, I'm very pleased at the response so far.  It's going to be an awfully long fic so I hope people will like it enough to stay with it.  By the way, I double-checked in 'Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them', for where the Support Office was – it is in the Being Division.  The Registry and Capture Unit are both in the Beast Division.

**Christy – **Hi!  Glad to have you back again!  Sorry it's taken ages to get a fic posted.  I was working on the sequel to 'Take It Back' for quite a while but it's not going very well, so I'll be concentrating on this one instead.  I promise not to discontinue this fic – I'm enjoying writing it far too much to do that.


	3. Cursed

**Chapter Three: Cursed**

It was nearly nine o'clock when the Lupins finally returned to Sedbergh.  With a loud bang, the Knight Bus materialised out of nothing and screeched to a halt on the grass verge in front of the Lupin's cottage.  Diane climbed carefully down the step, Remus wrapped up in a blanket, half asleep with his head resting on her shoulder.  Julian paid the fare and gratefully hopped down from the purple vehicle.  As the bus reversed and set off again, vanishing into the darkness with another loud bang, Diane pushed open the gate and walked slowly up the path to the front door.

They'd left St. Mungo's as soon as they could after the meeting with Cuttlesworth.  Angry and upset, Diane had not spoken a word since they'd left.  Remus was still feeling some of the affects of the Sleeping Draught he'd been given and kept dozing off.  Upon entering their home, Diane and Julian carefully took their son upstairs and put him to bed.

'He looks so peaceful,' whispered Diane.  She sat on the bed, gently stroking the honey-brown hair off Remus' face.  Curled up on his side with the duvet wrapped tightly around him, he'd fallen into a deep sleep the moment his head had touched the pillow.  Julian nodded, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.  He couldn't rid his memory of the horrifying image of his only child covered in blood, lying half-dead in the stream …  Closing his eyes tightly, Julian shook his head.  It was over now; they didn't have to think about it any more.

Slowly, Diane rose from the bed and kissed Remus goodnight, before gliding silently out of the room.  She was about to close the door when she stopped.  Then she left it open a crack.

'Just in case he wakes up,' she said.

Again, Julian just nodded.  The two of them were pale and blearily eyed, for neither of them had had much sleep the past few days; Julian suspected that tonight would be no different.  Drawing his wife into his arms, they held each other close.  They didn't cry.  There were no more tears to shed.

It was a while before the Lupins went to bed, and even longer for them to fall into an uneasy and restless sleep.

 -o-

The following day, Remus woke up feeling a little better.  Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he snuggled down among the soft pillows and duvet, watching the early morning light as it crept across the room.  The sky was blue and the birds were fluttering through the air, chirping happily.  A bluebird hopped onto the window and warbled a cheery song.   Remus smiled as the tiny bird pecked at the half coconut floating just above the window ledge.  His mother had Charmed it there for him a few weeks ago, to bring the birds for him to watch.  This particular bird had one crooked leg, like it had been broken before and not quite healed properly, giving it a lopsided appearance.  It had become something of a pet.  Remus had named it Pogo, unsure if it was male or female, but it came nearly every morning to be fed.  Once, Remus had managed to coax the little bird onto his hand with some seeds.

The bluebird hopped off the coconut and fluttered away, its piping song almost urging Remus to get up.  Obligingly, Remus sat up and pushed the heavy quilt off.  He still felt unwell; his stomach was churning a little but it was nowhere near as bad as yesterday.  Deciding some food might help, he went downstairs still in his pyjamas.  When he entered the kitchen, the first thing he noticed was his parents seated at the table, both looking grave and tired.  Two mugs of steaming coffee stood before them, along with a lot of parchment strewn across the table.

They both looked up as he came in.

'Remus, what are you doing up?' asked his mother, hurriedly getting to her feet.

'I'm hungry,' he said.  'Can I have some toast?'

His mother beamed with relief.

'Of course you can, darling, sit down, I'll make some for you.'

Remus took a seat while his mother went to the fireplace, and used her wand to levitate some slices of bread over the flames.

'How do you feel?' asked Julian.

Remus considered.

'Tired,' he admitted, 'and my head hurts.'

'Well, when you've had breakfast you should go back to bed,' said Diane, summoning a plate to her and flipping the toast out of the fire.  'You still look very pale.  Did you sleep all right?'

Remus nodded and reached for the marmalade.  His mother had only just put the plate of toast in front of him when Remus swayed in his seat and clutched his stomach.

'Remus?  What's wrong?'

'Di, he's going to be sick!'  Julian leapt up and waved his wand.  A bowl shot across the room, skidding to a halt in front of Remus just in time.  There was a wet splat followed by the nasty stench of vomit.  Remus coughed violently several times before sinking back into his chair.  He felt awful, and the smell was making him feel worse.  It wasn't long before his mother was tucking him back up in bed, with another empty bowl on the floor next to him.

'You shouldn't have got up if you didn't feel well,' she said firmly, the tension showing in her face.

'But I felt okay,' Remus mumbled in protest.  He was still rather pale.

'Your dad's brewing a potion to help settle your stomach, he won't be long.'

About ten minutes later, Julian arrived with a goblet of a mint-scented potion.  Remus took a few sips but couldn't manage much more.  Lying back down, he curled up on his side and closed his eyes.

'Try to get some sleep,' said Diane.  'I'll come back in a little while.'

Remus mumbled something incoherent, and then stilled.  When his breathing fell into a slow, steady rhythm, Diane and Julian left the room.

For the next few hours, they took turns to go and check on him.  Most of the time Remus was fast asleep.  He only threw up once and by late evening, Diane cooked some broth for him to drink in the hopes that it wouldn't upset his stomach. 

By the following morning, Remus was feeling and looking a lot better, though his mother insisted that he not eat too much.  After some orange juice and a slice of toast, Remus ventured out of bed and spent most of the day in the living room on the sofa with his mother while she did some needlework on a robe of Julian's.  Julian had returned to work that morning.

Remus attended a local Muggle primary school in the village, partly due to Diane's wish that Remus learn that Muggles were no different to wizarding children. She did not want him instilled with the same prejudice some members of the community held against non-magic people.  A lot of wizarding families did the same, and despite the risk of magical children performing accidental magic in front of Muggles, it was rarely harmful and often explained away by the Muggles themselves, for they refused to believe in such things.  So far, the worst thing Remus had done was to levitate the class rabbit when it tried to escape from the classroom.  The teacher had been very shocked, but later assumed that the rabbit had simply made a very large jump over the desks.

There were several wizarding families in the area that met up on a regular basis, allowing their children to play and learn a little bit about magic, in particular how important it was never to tell the Muggles what they were.  Not all the children paid attention, however.  There were more than a few Muggles wandering around Sedbergh with Memory Charms on them.

The headmistress had accepted Remus' absence of the past few days as a nasty bout of flu when Diane went over to inform her that Remus would not likely be back for a while.

'It came on very suddenly,' she said to an understanding Mrs. Spencer, 'but I hope he'll feel better by next week.'

'Of course,' said Mrs. Spencer.  'Well, I hope he gets better soon, Mrs Lupin, the new term will start soon.  It'll be a shame if he misses it.'

Diane agreed. Luckily, the half term holiday had begun and Remus had only missed a few days of school, but the question remained.  _Was _Remus going to be okay?  Was there any change he could get better?  After everything the Healers had told them after they'd arrived at the hospital, the future was looking very bleak.  It was so hard to comprehend, Diane thought as she watched Remus sitting quietly and flipping through the pages of a book, that he was something different … that there was something in his blood, in every living cell of his body, that had contaminated him forever.

Diane shuddered.

Forever.

_'I'm sorry, madam, but there is no cure.  There's nothing we can do for him.  He's alive and he should pull through, but he has been infected … it's incurable …'_

'Mum?'

'What?' Diane jerked out of her reverie and stared at Remus.

'Are you okay?'

'What?  Oh, of course I am.  Why?'

Remus hesitated, like he wasn't sure if he ought to answer.

'You looked upset,' he said quietly.

'Oh … well, I just thinking.'

'What about?'

Diane sighed and put her needlework down. 

'Remus, I'm just a little worried about you … that's all.'

'But I'm okay now,' said Remus, his brow furrowed.  'That mark is going away and I feel better.'  He didn't understand why his mother couldn't comprehend it.

'Yes, I know and I'm glad it's fading, but …' she trailed off.  What am I supposed to say, she wondered in despair.  How was she meant to explain it to him?  And when?

'It's nothing,' she said, finally.

Remus didn't say anything.  He went quietly back to his book.  He sensed there was something more, but decided to leave it.

 -o-

'Mum, can I go outside and play?'

Remus looked hopefully at his mother across the breakfast table.  Diane exchanged an apprehensive glance with her husband.

'I don't know, Remus, how are you feeling today?'

'Loads better,' he insisted.  'Please?  I'm bored being inside all the time.'

It was only his third day back home and Remus was still looking a bit peaky in Diane's opinion.  But at the pleading gaze he gave her, she reconciled, if somewhat reluctantly.

'Well … if you're sure-'

'Thanks, Mum!'

In a flash, Remus was off.  From the hallway Remus shouted, 'I'll be in the park!' The front door banged shut a few moments later.

Anxiously, Diane turned to Julian.

'Julian, do you think it's okay for him to go out?  I mean, he still doesn't look well.'

'Di, if he feels all right, I think it's best for him to get some fresh air,' he said patiently.  'Besides, see how fast he went?  He's fine!  There's nothing wrong with him.'

Diane frowned.  Was it her imagination or was that last statement just a bit too forceful?  They looked at each other, then, each turned back to their breakfast.

'I hope you're right,' Diane muttered under her breath.

 -o-

Finally freed of the house, Remus eagerly ran down the garden path and through the gate.  The warm sun and blue skies had been far too enticing to ignore.  Pogo had come to the window again that morning, apparently taking great pleasure in taunting him, fluttering away and back again, like the bird knew how much Remus wanted to go outside.   He'd been worried for a moment that his mother would say no.  She'd been acting strangely ever since they'd come back from the hospital.  Remus had loved the attention while he'd been sick, but now he felt better and desperate to get out to play once more.

With that thought in mind, he headed for the play park.

The play park was only a few streets away, and was composed of a large open field with a climbing frame, slide, roundabout and swing set at one end.  The village children gathered there every afternoon after school and every weekend to play around.  The Muggle children often brought a black and white ball that they would kick around.  It wasn't as much fun as Quidditch, but Remus enjoyed running around after it with the others.  His father had to take him out into the countryside for them to play Quidditch so they wouldn't be seen.  Remus had always thought it was a shame that Muggles couldn't play Quidditch; he had several friends among the Muggle children who he was sure would have loved it.

Rounding a corner, Remus smiled as the play park came into sight.  As expected, several children were already there.  Two girls were competing on the swings, trying to swing higher than each other.  Others were jostling for a turn on the slide, or clambering over the climbing frame, hanging upside down or holding on with one hand like monkeys for as long as they could.  A few children were kicking a ball to each other on the open field.

Remus recognised one of the boys and ran across the road towards him.

'Luke!' he shouted, waving.  'Hey, Luke!'

The sandy-haired boy faltered and turned.  He didn't call back.  He just stood there as Remus came onto the field, unsure of what to do or say.

'Hi,' Remus said brightly as he reached him.

Luke didn't answer right away.  Flustered, his eyes darting about nervously, Luke mumbled a hello.

'Can I join in?' said Remus.  His less-than-enthusiastic greeting did little to deter him.  But when Luke wouldn't meet his eyes and took a step back, Remus suddenly became aware that everyone else in the park had stopped playing and were all staring at him.  Then, a voice called from over by the climbing frame.

'So, you're back?'

Remus turned.  Tyler Herald dropped down from the climbing frame, along with a few other boys about his age.  At first, Remus wasn't sure why the teenagers were even there.  Then he realised it must be a holiday for them as well; they'd come back from boarding school.

Tyler strode over to him, a most peculiar expression twisting his face.  Luke, and several of the other children, backed away nervously.  It was mainly the older Muggle children that stayed where they were, watching with a mixture of curiosity, and ill-disguised expectation.

'When did you get back?' said Tyler.

'Few days ago,' said Remus. 

He glanced over his shoulder. There was something very wrong about the way the other children were staring at him.  Tyler and his friends fanned out, forming a loose semi-circle around Remus.  Cautiously, but not overly afraid, Remus backed up.

'You shouldn't have come back,' said Tyler menacingly, advancing on him.  'Everyone knows what you are.'

'What?  I'm not anything,' Remus protested, his voice quivering.  What was going on?

'You better run, you know,' said another boy, not as tall as Tyler, but just as mean.  'Before they start coming after you.'

Remus stared blankly at them.

'Who?  Why? I don't -'

Suddenly, a small stone came flying out of nowhere and struck Remus across his forehead.  Yelping in surprise more than pain, Remus stumbled backwards and clapped a hand over his brow.  Panting, Remus lowered his hand and stared at the smear of blood on his palm.

'Freak!' yelled a boy near the slide.  Remus stared.  It was Edward, and he was glaring at Remus with such a loathsome look, he was almost unrecognisable.  Stunned, Remus' attention snapped back to Tyler as the teenager took another step closer and put his face closer to his.

'You're _cursed_,' he hissed.

'Cursed!  Cursed!' chanted several girls, moving closer as they did so.  The chant was taking up swiftly by the rest of the group.

'Cursed! Cursed! _Cursed! Cursed!_'

They were closing in on him.  Remus spun round, eyes wide.  Another stone was thrown, but he saw it coming and dodged it.

'Stop it!' he shouted.  But no one heard him above the chanting.

'You're a freak!' someone shouted through the noise.

'No!  Stop it! Don't!' 

When another stone narrowly missed his head, Remus spun on his heel and bolted.  He expected someone to stop him, but a number of people squealed and screamed, leaping out of his way.  Darting past them, Remus ran for it.

'Get him!' yelled Tyler.

Panicked, Remus ran as fast as he could back down the street.  Feet pounding on the path and his breath coming in short, painful gasps, Remus barely noticed how fast he was going.  He could hear the mob behind him, and as he rounded a corner onto Thistledown Avenue, he risked a glance over his shoulder.  Not all the children had followed, and most of them had fallen behind.  Only the teenagers were keeping up, Tyler in the lead.

'He's getting away!' he shouted, spurring them on.

Getting caught was not a pleasant prospect.  Remus had no idea why he was suddenly the object of such scorn, but now was clearly not the time for explanations.  His lungs were aching, but every step brought him closer to home, and safety.  Keeping his head down, Remus forced himself to run faster, the ground a hazy blur beneath him.

Pelting across the road, Remus didn't see the stick until his foot caught it.  He pitched forward and scrawled painfully on the pavement.  Heavy footsteps came racing round the corner a split second later.

'There he is!'

'Get him!'

Remus scrambled to his feet just as Tyler reached him.  The teenager lunged and seized Remus roughly by his shirt. 

'Let go!' Remus yelled, and shoved Tyler as hard as he could.

He hadn't expected a small push to have much of an affect on the older boy, but almost immediately Tyler let go, leaping back like he was on fire, shouting, 'It touched me!  The thing _touched _me!'

The rest of the boys drew up short, keeping their distance.  None of them seemed keen on coming any closer.

Bewildered, Remus stood rooted to the spot.  Tyler threw him a look of pure venom.

'I'm going to get you for that …'

'What did I do?' Remus cried.  'I didn't _do _anything!'

'Not yet,' called a girl, spitefully.  'My dad told me we're not go near you.  You're _cursed!_'

'Yeah, should have let the monster eat you!'

'He's a freak, that's what he is!'

'Ah, look, wolf-boy's crying!'

'Is the ickle monster fwightened?' Tyler taunted him.  He made as though to lunge once more, and when Remus jumped back, Tyler stopped and laughed loudly.  'See!' he shouted to the population at large.  'He's not so scary!'

Tears rolling down his cheeks, Remus' head was spinning.  The other children had caught up and were slowly edging closer, many of them with stones in their fists, Edward among them. Even Luke was hovering behind the rest of them, watching apprehensively … fearfully.  More than anything, Remus wanted to shout out, to ask Luke what in Merlin's name was going on, when another figure came hurrying towards them.

The crowd of children drew back as a tall woman with thick blond hair came into their midst and grabbed the arm of a young boy.

'Daniel, get away from it!' she shrieked, pulling the boy behind her.  She glared at Remus, a hideous expression twisting her face, like she wanted to spit at him.  'You stay away from my son!' she hissed.

'Remus!'

At the sound of his mother's voice, Remus' heart gave a leap.  His mother was running down the garden path.  She flung open the gate and came swiftly over the road.  As she reached her son, Diane flung her arms around him in a brief hug, before drawing him behind her and glaring in equal distaste at the other woman.

'You keep that filthy little beast away from my kids!' the woman screeched, shielding Daniel with her body.

'Don't call him that, Edna!' Diane yelled back, angry tears threatening to fall from her eyes.  'Didn't you see what they were doing to him?' 

She gestured to the children that had lingered after most had fled at the sight of a grown-up.  Most of them had backed away, but all were eyeing Remus with nothing short of loathing and fear.  Remus cowered behind her, whimpering and clutching her arm.

'What I saw,' Edna spat at her, 'was _that_ feral creature attacking _them!_  That's right!  Lunged for that lad over there!'

'Yeah!' Tyler called out.  He was trying to make a show of looking scared, but the effect was hindered somewhat by the malicious grin contorting his features.  Not that Edna or the other children noticed.  'It tried to bite me!  Little monster should be locked up!'

There were cries of agreement from the group.  Edna lifted her head, smugly.  Diane stared in horror and avid disbelief.

'Remus did no such thing!  I saw it all from my bedroom window – those kids were after him like a pack of -'

'Wolves?' suggested Edna.  'No less than he deserves! The kids have the right idea.  You should never have brought him back here, Diane.  He's not welcome here.' 

The witch caught Remus' gaze.  The frightened child shivered as her pale eyes locked onto his own.

'You'd better get out this village,' she said, speaking to Diane but not taking her eyes off Remus, 'and take that feral beast with you … before someone take matters into their own hands.'

'Is that a threat?' Diane demanded, angrily.

'It's the truth,' said Edna coldly.  Pulling her own son with her, she swept away.

Glaring after her and shaking with fear and anger, Diane hardly noticed that the crowd of children was still there.  When she remembered, she turned to them and shouted, 'Go on!  Get out of here!  You've had your fun, now go!'

Most of the youngsters scattered.  The older ones laughed derisively, before slowly making their way back up the road.  Tyler was the last to leave.  When Remus risked another look round his mother, Tyler stared directly at him, and mouthed something at him, drawing his finger swiftly across his throat.  Then, he too, headed back towards the park with the others.

Breathing heavily through her nose, Diane turned and grabbed Remus' hand.

'Come on, let's get you inside, quick.'

Sniffing, Remus nodded and staggered with her back to their cottage.  Slamming the front door shut behind them, Diane pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it over the lock.  It clicked loudly, and a number of blue sparks shot out of the keyhole.  Muttering something under her breath, Diane lifted the letter-slot and aimed her wand at the front gate.

'That should stop them coming to the door,' she said, her voice trembling.  Angry and scared, she slumped against the door and buried her face in her hands.  Letting out a ragged breath, she made the effort to pull herself together.  Remus stood awkwardly in the doorway to the living room, unsure and deeply confused.

'Come on,' whispered Diane.  Taking his hand, she led Remus into the kitchen.

When Remus was seated, Diane conjured a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth.  Very gently, she dabbed at the swelling on his forehead.  Wincing, Remus let out a hiss of pain.

'Sorry,' whispered Diane.  'Here, put your hands in this.'

She waved her wand and summoned a bottle from the shelf.  It poured a yellowish liquid into the water and steam began to rise from the bowl.  Remus slowly submerged his hands and felt the pain from his scraped hands ease almost immediately.  Casting another spell, Diane touched her wand to his head to relieve the swelling.

Julian entered the room a few minutes later.  He stopped and stared at his wife tenderly drying off Remus' hands, both of them shaken and upset.

'What happened?' he asked.

Diane's head snapped round.

'I'll tell you what's happened,' she croaked.  'Remus wasn't outside ten minutes before the local brat pack attacked him!'

Julian blanched.

'What!'

'They know, Julian, the whole village knows!'

'But … how …'

'Oh, how could they not know?' Diane took Remus' chin and turned his head so that his father could see the wound on his head.  'Look at that!  Nothing wrong with him, you said!  He's fine, nothing wrong with him going outside!  It's not like every witch and wizard in Sedbergh wasn't at that stupid party!  I just had to stop Edna Ramset from attacking him!'

'That old bat across the road?' cried Julian.  Diane nodded, rubbing her eyes.

'She threatened us – said we ought to get out before someone makes us.'

Furiously, Julian whipped out his wand. 

'Right, I'm going over there -'

'To do what?  If you hex her, it'll just give the rest of them another reason to harm Remus!'

'We've got to do _something_, Di!'

'Yes, but not by making things worse!'

'_How_ could they be any worse?' yelled Julian.  He stormed back over to them, slamming his wand down on the table and making the bowl of water slosh over the tablecloth.  Remus jumped and stared fearfully up at his father.  'We didn't ask for this to happen!'

'But, Julian, we can't just pretend it _hasn't_ happened!'

'Then what do you propose we do about it?'

'I don't know!'

Turning on his heel, Julian paced round the room, his feet stomping heavily on the wooden floor.  Diane slumped in her chair, her hand over her mouth.  A stony silence descended, broken only by Julian's restless pacing and Diane's ragged sobs.

Remus finally found his voice.

'What's wrong with me, mum?' he asked softly, tears stinging his eyes.

Diane looked sharply at him, as did Julian.

'Something's wrong with me, isn't there?'  Remus knew by their faces it was true.

'We have to tell him,' said Diane weakly, not taking her eyes off her son, his own searching her face for any clue as to the reason.  Julian nodded robotically.  Slowly, he came over and took a seat beside his son.

'Remus,' said Diane, taking both his sore hands in hers, 'do you remember the wolf that hurt you?'

'Yes,' said Remus, his voice shaking.  It didn't seem likely he'd ever forget it.

Diane took a deep breath, but it failed to keep her voice steady.

'Well … when it … when it bit you … something bad happened to you …' she said.  Struggling to find the words, she turned helplessly to her husband.

'Something nasty got into your blood,' he said as gently as he could.  Remus sat in silence, listening carefully.  He understood so far.

'It's called … lycanthropy,' said Diane, nearly choking on the word.  Tears ran unhindered down her cheeks.  'It's a very bad disease.'  She stopped, unable to continue.

'Ly-can-thro-py?' repeated Remus uncertainly.  'I got it from the wolf?'

Julian nodded.

'That wolf was a werewolf,' he said, slowly.  'Do you know what they are?'

'Monsters,' said Remus at once.  'It scared me.'

Again, Julian nodded.  He was growing very pale and seemed to be fighting back tears.

'That's … that's true,' he admitted very reluctantly.  Diane sobbed loudly.  'But they're more than that.  They are people … who can become wolves.'

Remus blinked.  No one had ever mentioned that to him before; he'd always thought they were monsters and nothing more.  It was what he'd heard from one of the older wizards in the village.

'A werewolf is a human most of the time … it only becomes a wolf at night, when there's a full moon in the sky.'

'There was a full moon,' Remus agreed.  'I remember seeing it.'

Julian swallowed hard.

'Werewolves are also know as lycanthropes,' he added, forcing each word out like it was causing him great pain, 'and they make others like them by biting them.'

Remus was silent.  When Julian turned to look down at his son, he was met by a petrified stare of bleak understanding.  Diane was crying, sniffing into a handkerchief, her eyes red and puffy.

'The wolf bit me,' said Remus, faintly.  'It bit _me_!'

'Yes, it did,' said Julian, trying not to allow Remus to get too panicked, but failing rapidly, 'and now you have lycanthropy.'

'Why didn't the Healers do something?' Remus cried.

'They can't,' sobbed Diane, lowering her soggy handkerchief.  'There isn't a cure for it.' 

She was trembling and couldn't carry on.

Blankly, Remus gazed at his mother.  Then he remembered the reaction of the children in the park.

'They said I was cursed,' he said, quivering.  'They called me a – a beast.'

'I know, sweetheart.'

Wrapping her arms around him, Diane held Remus close.  He was shaking uncontrollably.

'Am I gonna be a wolf too?' he croaked, a few minutes later.

His parents didn't answer straight away.

'Yes,' said Diane, softly.  Remus cried harder.

'But – I don't want to!  It hurt me!  I don't want to be a monster!'

'You aren't a monster!' Diane pulled him away from her shoulder and made him look at her.  'Never believe anyone who says such things!  They aren't true.  You are still our little boy and we love you very much – being something different is never going to change that, all right?'

Remus sniffed in reply.  Tears streaming down his cheeks, he said quietly, 'But I don't want to be different.  They said I was cursed.'

'Sometimes it is called a curse,' said Julian.  Diane threw him a look.

'Don't tell him that,' she snapped.

'He ought to know, shouldn't he?  If he's going to understand, he needs to know.'  Turning back to Remus, he added tentatively, 'Look, I know this is hard for you to understand, Remus, but a lot of wizards are scared of werewolves, like you were when you saw the wolf before, remember?  They're scared because they don't know much about lycanthropy … and neither do we.  There wasn't much the Healers could tell us.'

But Remus had stopped listening.  All he could hear was the harsh taunts of the other children, their voices ringing in his ears as though they were in the room with him.  Their faces twisted with malice and righteous accusation.  Children who had been playmates mere days before had changed beyond all recognition.  Luke, not capable of even looking him in the eye, and Edward … the cut from the stone was still stinging, but not as much as the words that had followed.  Freak … monster … it – like he wasn't even human anymore …

Remus felt dirty and defiled.  Self-consciously, his hand went to his chest.  The huge scar seemed to burn like fire beneath his touch.  It was fading fast, but the wound was much more than a physical mark, one that was never going to heal.

His arms tightened round his mother's neck, and he buried his face into her shoulder, fighting against the howl of misery trying to break free.   Feeling as though her heart were breaking, Diane rubbed his back and rocked him back forth, like she'd done when Remus had been small.  Julian, unaccustomed to dealing with outbursts of such raw emotion, hung back awkwardly, lost in his own thoughts, before moving over to sit beside them, embracing his wife in an effort to calm her, as she tried to do the same for Remus.

But for all their efforts, Remus did not feel any better.  His eyes sore from crying so much, he finally whispered, 'I don't want to be different.'

 -o-

**_To Be Continued …_**

 -o-

Please leave a review. All comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.

 -o-

**Author's Notes.**

**Luna Moonglade – **Thank you very much, it's really nice of you to say that you think I'm a good writer – it's mostly down to a lot of practise and having a wonderful Beta reader to help me out.  It's good that you know where your own weak points are; the best advice I can give on that is for you to read lots of different books by different people.  You'll pick up on new words and interesting ways of phrasing things.  I also use a thesaurus a lot to stop using the same words over and over.  I'm glad you're enjoying the fic so far.  Hope to hear from you again.

**Aerlalaith – **Yes, you will see some of the places where Remus was kept during the full moons.   I'm concentrating a lot on his life prior to Hogwarts rather than send him off to school by chapter five.  I've read so many fics that jump from 'the bite' straight to his first day at Hogwarts within two or three chapters, and it made me want to show a more of what his life was like during his first few years as a werewolf.    Hope you liked the chapter.


	4. A Warning

**Chapter Four: A Warning**

A cool wind swept through the sleeping village. The trees rustled their leaves and the dark grey clouds sped overhead. A few breaks in the clouds allowed brief glimpses of the stars, shining brightly against the velvet black of the sky. An owl swooped over the roofs of the cottages, a dead mouse clamped in its beak. Flaring its wings, the bird dropped silently out of the air and landed on the boughs of a young apple tree. The barn owl folded its brown and white wings to its sides and greedily tore a chunk of warm meat off the dead rodent with its sharp beak. Swallowing the tender morsel, the owl surveyed the darkened street, the amber eyes penetrating the dark like it was day. Spying something moving stealthily among the dancing shadows, the owl hesitated to continue its meal. Hunching over, the owl gripped the mouse tightly with its talons, ready to take to the air. Poised, the owl waited.

A gust of wind whipped through the trees, sending the branches swaying. All along the street, slender saplings bent and waved their thin branches in protest. A half-coconut, charmed to a window, swung wildly and collided with the glass. Remus jerked his head up at the resulting bang. It took a moment for him to register what had made the noise and when he saw the coconut bang against the windowpane again, he calmed down, his heart rate slowing from a panicked drum roll back down to a more steady rhythm. A cold draught blasted through the open window, raising goose bumps on Remus' exposed arm. Shoving it under the quilt, Remus watched the curtains flutter for a minute before the wind died down a little and ceased playing with the birdfeeder, the curtains falling back into place. Slowly, Remus returned to staring blankly up at the ceiling of his bedroom.

It was past midnight and Remus still hadn't been able to fall asleep. After the traumatic events of the past day it had taken a long time for him to calm down and even now he still felt deeply shaken. Unable to bear the thought of eating, Remus had refused the food his mother had offered him throughout the day. The smell alone, normally enticing enough to set his mouth watering, had done nothing but make him feel queasy. Now his stomach was churning painfully from hunger, but he didn't dare go down to the kitchen for something to eat.

Rolling onto his side, Remus curled up in a ball and pulled the quilt up to his chin. His eyes were itching with tiredness, yet he didn't want to sleep. Remus knew that if he closed his eyes the wolf would come back in his dreams. Desperately, he fought to stay awake and to keep his mind blank, to block out everything he'd learnt that day. To acknowledge any of it would make it real.

Following the attack by the village children, Remus had been so badly shaken by the experience his mother had tried to give him a bath, hoping it would calm him. But it had had completely the opposite effect. The moment Remus was in the water, it jolted a painful memory of lying in the stream with the werewolf holding him in its powerful jaws, shaking him like a rag-doll as it meant to kill him. Screaming in blind panic, Remus had thrashed violently to escape the water, fighting his mother and scaring her out of her wits. He'd spent the next few hours wrapped in a warm blanket on the couch by the fire. Despairingly, his parents tried their best to explain to Remus what little they knew of lycanthropy, but the terrified child didn't seem to want to listen.

But Remus had paid some attention, after his father had stated how important it was to understand what he was if he ever wanted to have some semblance of a normal life. Normal: the word struck home and Remus did his best to listen to all they told him. It wasn't pleasant listening.

The Healers at St. Mungo's had warned Diane and Julian that Remus had developed an allergy to monkshood, a plant often used in potions. It wasn't clear as to how sensitive he was likely to be as there were varying degrees; some werewolves fell dangerously ill, while others only came up in a nasty rash. Either way, Diane had shown Remus a photograph of the plant and empathised the importance of never touching it or drinking any potion that contained any part of it. Since the plant was known by several names, Diane made Remus recite them all until she was satisfied that he'd remember them.

Silver was also very dangerous to someone with lycanthropy. There were no two ways about that element. It was a lethal poison, which could kill a werewolf within a few painful hours if it entered the bloodstream. There was little chance of recovery. A mere touch was enough to result in burns that could take months to heal, if at all. When Julian had explained this to Remus, Diane had sadly gone through her jewellery box, removing from her few treasured pieces everything silver and placing them in a small black bag. Remus had seen the look of longing as his mother had slowly removed her silver locket and put it with the rest, sealing the bag with a Permanent Sealant Charm. It had been a Valentines Day gift from Julian many years ago and contained two small photographs, one of herself and Julian on their wedding day, and another of Remus when he was a toddler. Diane couldn't bear the thought of transfiguring the precious gift into gold; it just wouldn't be the same. She'd never taken it off until today.

Flinging himself onto his other side, Remus struggled to get comfortable. He had pretended to be asleep when his mother had opened the door to check on him. He didn't want to be the reason she started crying again. Diane had crept quietly to his side and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, smoothed his bedclothes out and silently retreated from the room, lingering in the doorway before shutting herself away in her bedroom, her muffled sobs barely audible, but Remus heard them clearly enough. His father had looked in on him too, but had stayed in the doorway, just watching him for a while, before closing the door and making his way down the hall to bed. As soon as Remus was sure that both of them were in bed, he'd resumed tossing and turning, afraid of what he'd see in his dreams if he closed his eyes for too long.

The ticking of the clock on the bedside table was growing more noticeable in the quiet of the night, and steadily more irritating as it approached two in the morning. Remus yawned, his eyes drooping. Abruptly, he forced himself to sit up and gave himself a pinch. The pain revived his exhausted mind for a moment as he fought to stay awake. But in his sleep-deprived state, it was getting harder and harder not to listen to the voices his memory callously recalled for him.

_You're cursed … should have let the monster eat you … he's not welcome here … wolf-boy's crying!_

Wolf-boy. Remus' stomach clenched. He was going to throw up. Hastily, he threw off the quilt and rolled off the bed, kneeling beside the bowl his mother had left. Coughing, Remus dry-retched for a few minutes but failed to bring anything up. His empty stomach growled loudly. Slumping against the bed, Remus sniffed and hugged himself. He felt the scar tissue tentatively beneath his nightshirt. Though it had not caused him any pain, it was a sufficient reminder of the wolf's teeth, and the immense pain it had caused …

_They make others by biting them … am I gonna be a wolf too?_

No! Remus scrunched up his face and shook his head hard, as though to rid himself of the voices. No, it _wasn't _true – he didn't believe it … he didn't want to believe it …

_… Becomes a wolf at night, when there's a full moon in the sky …_

Through the small window, the stars were barely visible through the cloud cover. A blanket of dark grey hid the moon from view, but Remus knew it was there. As though in answer to his fears, the cloud shifted and the glowing body of the half-moon emerged from its hiding place. Remus blinked and swallowed hard, hugging his knees. His father had explained to him about how the moon changed shape and when you could tell a full moon was coming. The moon was like a large silvery 'c' against the darkness, like the satellite had been sliced neatly in half. It was getting smaller. Over the following week it would disappear from the sky entirely before returning a few nights later and to grow again, to grow round and full.

There were twenty-eight days between each full moon. By using a calendar, Diane and Julian had shown Remus how to predict when a full moon would fall. To Remus they looked miles apart, but to his parents they felt far too close. It had been over a week since Remus had been bitten. There were only nineteen days to go until the first transformation.

Despite everything Diane and Julian had told their son, there was little they could tell him off the transformation. They had no idea what it would be like, or how Remus would cope with it. Would he even survive it? From what the Healers were able to tell them, the change from human to animal was a painful one. The change from animal back to human was believed to be worse. It was becoming clear that another question was whether Diane would be able to cope with it. At any mention of the actual transformation, she would burst into tears and beg Julian not to say any more. Remus was in two minds about it. On one hand, curiosity demanded he find out at least something about it, but the other part dreaded to know. His parents had compromised and had told him only that the physical change would be very uncomfortable, though Julian's personal feelings were that softening the blow now would only make it much worse when Remus actually felt it.

Remus had staved off sleep for as long as he could. The moon was blurring before his eyes and his head fell forward onto his knees.

A screeching hoot pierced the night like a banshee cry. Torn away from the edge of sleep, Remus opened his eyes just in time to see a large barn owl soar pass the window at speed. The curtains were caught in another gust of wind, the pale material fluttering like ghosts fighting to get out. Shivering, Remus picked himself up off the floor, crept to the window and slid the pane closed. The curtains fell limply back into place.

Gazing out across the quiet street, Remus wondered why everything looked so normal and peaceful when there was a storm raging in his heart. Why did everything have to change? What had he done wrong? None of the village children liked him anymore. Even the Muggle children had joined in taunting him, though they knew nothing of werewolves. Remus rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. It wasn't fair. He hadn't asked for it to happen; so why did they feel it was a punishable offence? Touching the bump on his forehead, Remus cringed at the thought of the stones being thrown, and the malicious verbal abuse.

The thought of going back to school was unsettling. Remus liked school very much. He was often praised for his neat handwriting and the pictures he drew, and the teachers were nice. But how would they be towards him now that he was ill? They might be Muggles but if the other children could turn against him so easily what was to say the teachers wouldn't do the same? They would never understand what was wrong with him.

Caught up in his thinking, it was a few moments before Remus noticed anything unusual in the street below him. It was only when the clouds had obscured all sources of natural light that the flare of light across the road caught his attention. Frowning, Remus sat up and squinted into the shadowy pathway between two of the cottages. Then, a tiny flash of red and orange, so small it was barely noticeable, briefly illuminated the fencing before being swallowed up by the darkness. Remus leaned forward, trying to discern the location of the source of light. It was most peculiar. Why would someone be walking through the village this late at night? Was there even someone there? Remus stayed where he was, watching and waiting. But nothing happened. There was only blackness. Nothing was moving but the gently swaying shadows of the trees.

Remus hesitated, and then slowly retreated from the window. He must have imagined it. The lack of sleep was playing tricks on his senses. He couldn't focus his eyes on anything. Everything was gaining a blurry quality, his legs were shaking and the warm, comfortable bed was far too inviting for him to fight any longer. Sinking down onto the mattress, Remus curled up with the quilt and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Remus' eyes snapped open and he sat up; abruptly awake as though someone had doused him in cold water. Feeling disorientated, Remus couldn't be sure if he'd fallen asleep, nor how much time had passed since he'd laid down, but somehow he knew something wasn't right. Shivering, Remus' eyes searched the darkness without any idea what he was looking for.

A faint sound reached his ears.

There was something moving around outside.

Twisting his head to look, Remus leapt back as something came hurtling through the window, the glass shattering, sending glittering shards flying everywhere. Remus yelped and flung up his arms to protect his face, but not before he saw the large rock fall to the floor with a heavy thud. A split second later, a bottle came hurtling through the window, propelled by a burst of dark green sparks. The bottle itself was glowing brightly, a swirl of red, orange and yellow pulsating within the glass, flying like a small comet into the room. The bottle smashed as it hit the floor, and with a shower of sparks, exploded with a tremendous bang, releasing a torrent of flames swarming across the floor. A small mushroom shaped cloud thumped up into the air, the black smoke hovering just below the ceiling like a dark swirling cloak.

Remus screamed. Somewhere outside there were noises, shouts, then came the sound of more glass breaking, other windows being smashed. The roar of the fire drowned out the distant sounds as the flames leapt higher. The remains of the broken bottle glowed green, and then disappeared without trace. The bed of embers left behind ricocheted off the floor, seeking out wood and fabric in a frenzy. Remus scrambled backwards into the corner, watching in open-mouthed horror as a swarm of fire-sprites, freed of their glass prison, gloried in their release and eagerly leapt upon the rug, their white-hot bodies igniting it in moments. The small, fairy-like creatures cackled and squealed their delight as the fire engulfed the room.

When one of the sprites sprang from the wardrobe to the bed, Remus yelled and flung the quilt off the bed, whipping the sprite off and sending it flying across the room. It landed in the waste bin with an indignant cry. The rest of the sprites' silvery laughter rang out accompanied by the crackling of the fire.

The room was full of smoke. Some of it was billowing out of the broken window, but not enough. Trapped in the corner, Remus opened his mouth to shout for help but all that came out was a harsh cough. His eyes were watering so painfully he could barely see. The heat was building fast but he had nowhere to go. Shrinking as far back into the corner as he could, Remus tried to yell but his throat was so raw he only succeeded in a weak cry, punctuated by hacking coughs.

'_Mum!' _he croaked. '_Dad!' _

Dissolving into another fit of coughs, Remus sank down onto the bed.

The bedroom door crashed open in a blast of purple sparks, banging off the wall with such force the fire-sprites squealed in fright and sprang away up the walls. The fire roared and the black smoke discovered a new outlet, billowing out into the hallway. In the doorway, half crouched on the floor, was Julian. Beyond him, the house was full of smoke. His face blackened with soot, Julian was holding a cloth over his face, aiming his wand with his other hand at the flames.

'_Exstinguere_!' he croaked.

A shower of blue-green sparks sprayed from the tip of his wand. The fire-sprites hissed angrily at the sight, retreating quickly. Sweeping his wand in a wide arc, Julian repelled the flames, destroying the bed of embers on the floor, from which another fire-sprite was emerging. An anguished cry came from the drenched pile of embers, two tiny, spindly arms waving their clenched fists. It slumped as the embers died, cutting the cries short. The rest of the fire-spites set up a keening wail, their white eyes narrowed into slits as Julian took a step into the room.

Remus heard the sounds and blinked hard, trying in vain to see through the curtain of smoke. Transfixed by the dancing flames, Remus only just heard his father's shout.

'REMUS!'

Shaking, Remus tore his eyes away from the flames. There, on the other side of the leaping wall of fire, his father was beckoning to him frantically.

'You must move!' Julian bellowed over the roar. 'Get off the bed – NOW!'

Jolted into action, Remus scrambled blindly towards his father.

'NO! MOVE TO YOUR LEFT!'

But Remus didn't stop. He tumbled off the bed and landed on the floor. He barely missed the flames, and his father's sudden shout had scared him. A pair of sprites dropped out of the air and crouched before him, their pupil-less eyes glowing white, and the flames of their bodies flaring. One emitted a high-pitched wail of glee. Remus stared at it as the little creature slunk towards him on its long, spindly limbs.

'Get away from me!' Remus cried, snatching up a shoe from under the bed and swatting at it. There was a muffled squeak as the shoe thumped down on top of it. The second sprite appeared to change its mind about attacking Remus, abruptly spinning round and bouncing away, though not before pausing to hiss at him. A jet of blue-green sparks suddenly caught the sprite in the face. A puff of white steam erupted from the fire-spite's head as it tumbled backwards, screaming in a panic.

Remus left his shoe where it was, gently smouldering, and tried to stand up.

'No, Remus, _stay down!_'

Turning, Remus caught sight of his father once more, battling with the fire. Sweeping his wand furiously, Julian forced his way steadily across the room, keeping his head down and coughing fiercely. When another cast of the Extinguishing Spell cut a narrow path through the fire in front of Remus, Julian fell to his knees.

'Remus, please, you _must_ move! Crawl towards me!' he commanded, removing the cloth from his face for a moment so that Remus could hear him clearly, before he started to cough violently.

Eyes wide, Remus stayed rooted to the spot and shook his head. The flames were converging again, eating away the route to his father. Julian raised his wand and tried again.

'_Exstinguere!'_

The fire receded, but it wouldn't stay back for long. The fire-sprites were gathering, edging closer. A few were scaling the walls, the ominous wailing making the hairs on the back of Remus' neck stand up. Julian's ashen face drew his gaze as his father tried to come closer, but the fire-sprites sprang forward, bringing the fire together to cut them off from each other. With an enraged cry, Julian jabbed his wand the nearest sprites. One exploded into ashes, leaving a blackened ring on the wooden floor. Two sprites that had been narrowly missed dived back into the relative safety of the fire, with only their white eyes visible among the flames. Remus watched with mounting trepidation as his father cut him a path through the fire for a third time.

'Come on, Remus, you can do it!' yelled Julian, the despair seeping into his voice as Remus cowered on the floor, out of reach, yet only ten feet away.

'I can't! I'm scared!' Remus cried. If he moved, the fire would surely touch him. Julian dropped to his hands and knees.

'I know you are – but it'll be all right,' he called, stretching out a hand. 'I promise. Trust me.'

Remus' eyes went from his father's hand to the narrow path and back again. Julian's soft brown eyes were wide and pleading, brimming with tears.

Then, getting to his hands and knees, Remus started to crawl towards him.

'That's it; that's the way! Just keep your eyes on me … keep going …'

Not daring to even glance at the fire shimmering on either side of him, Remus kept his eyes locked on his father, fighting down the terror of the mounting heat and smoke. The air was being choked out of the room and he was getting dangerously dizzy. His father's outline was blurring and the room seemed to sway like a ship. He was only a few feet from his father when a thunderous crack rent the air. Both Remus and Julian froze and looked up just as a large wooden beam began to break away from the ceiling.

It appeared to descend in slow motion. Remus was frozen where he was, mouth agape as the beam fell towards him. Julian bellowed and lunged forward, closing the gap between them, and pointing his wand skyward.

'WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!'

Nearly crushed by his father's weight, Remus screamed and covered his head. Julian's free arm wrapped around him in a fierce grip, both of them falling to the floor as an explosion of light erupted above their heads.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, when nothing landed on top of them, both lifted their heads, blinking hard.

Barely a foot above them was the beam, floating on the air. Several fire-spites clung to the splintering wood, howling their displeasure.

'Come _on_! Move! GO, GO, GO!'

Shoving Remus ahead of him, Julian spun round and together they scrambled for the door, the fire spreading across the floor in deadly waves of scarlet and orange. Diving through the open door, Remus glanced back to see the beam crash to the floor as the spell died. Julian slammed the door behind him.

The hallway was full of smoke. Remus couldn't have felt like he would ever be more frightened than he was when the werewolf had attacked him, but this was worse. He couldn't see where to go.

'Dad!' he cried, panicked, and scrambling on his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut against the stinging smoke, Remus bumped into his father and clamped onto his arm.

'It's all right, Remus, it's all right!' Julian yelled. 'Here, breathe through this.'

Remus weakly lifted his head as his father pressed a wet cloth over his mouth and nose. It made it easier to breathe and his lungs heaved as he gulped down a few shaky breaths.

'Okay, now I need you to stay still, Remus, can you do that for me?'

Slumping semi-conscious against his father's side, Remus nodded, welcoming the strong embrace as Julian pinned him to his side. Satisfied that his son wouldn't move, Julian waved his wand and muttered an incantation. Remus blinked and the smoky interior of the house vanished to be replaced a moment later by the front garden. The sudden supply of cleaner air brought on another coughing fit for both of them. A relieved shout echoed through the night behind them.

'Remus! Oh, Julian!'

Diane fell to the ground and flung her arms around them both. Her hair was in a tangle and her face was smudged with ash, streaked with tears. Her nightdress was frayed and partly burnt.

'Oh, thank goodness you're all right!' she sobbed. 'I thought – I thought …'

She broke down and hugged them, kissing them both.

'Di, please,' croaked Julian. 'Remus …'

Diane drew back and hastily turned to her son. Remus was fighting for breath, his face pale beneath the ash. Holding her wand steady, Diane touched it to Remus' chest.

'_Respirator_,' she commanded firmly.

The pain in Remus' chest eased slightly. Feeling better, Remus was taken aback when the pain suddenly returned worse than before. A violent spasm rocked his body and after a few hacking coughs, Remus gave a horrendous cough, and a large cloud of black smoke billowed out of his mouth. Waving the smoke away hastily, Diane rubbed his back firmly. Remus coughed weakly, but the worst of the smoke had been expelled from his lungs making it easier for him to breathe. Diane repeated the spell with Julian, bringing up a large cloud of smoke and ash from his lungs, before Julian insisted on doing the same for her.

Once they were all breathing acceptably without assistance, Remus rubbed his eyes and turned to survey the cottage. The beautiful little cottage was ablaze. There was a deafening crash as part of the roof caved in. Diane clapped a hand over her mouth. Julian wrapped his arms around her. Both were shaking uncontrollably. Wide-eyed, Remus gazed as the great funnel of smoke and ash rose higher and higher into the sky, the fiery glow illuminating the night sky.

None of them could speak. Quivering, Remus turned away from the despairing sight and clung to his mother. Looking over her shoulder, Remus stiffened. At the sound of a number of sharp cracks, both Julian and Diane whipped their heads round, only to catch fleeting glimpses of distant shapes in the shadows as they disappeared into the night.

-o-

**_To Be Continued …_**

-o-

Please leave a review. All comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.

-o-

**Author's Notes.**

**Emma – **Hiya, Emma, thanks for reviewing! You've been reading Heart of a Star too? That's great, I love to hear that people are checking out the rest of my work. Heart of a Star has been completed if you haven't finished reading it yet. This one could be going on for quite some time, so I hope you'll drop in sometime for the updates.

**Aerlalaith – **I'm going to start handing out tissues if people keep crying (lol). I have a feeling that later chapters are going to have a similar effect. I have quite a lot of pre-Hogwarts stuff planned, something like twenty chapters or so. It may end up being more as I'm trying hard to cut down on the length of the chapters (My Beta has been hinting for a while that having chapters ten or so pages long isn't always a good thing – plus it takes so much longer to write!) I dutifully cut this one down so chapter five shouldn't be too long in coming.

**Evil spapple pie – **Hi Pie! I was so pleased to see your name on the review page; haven't heard from you in a while – how've you been? I've wanted to write a Lupin fic for ages, but couldn't bring myself to do one when there seemed to be so many around. Though not many have much on his life before he attended Hogwarts, so I've taken it as an opportunity to get one started. Hey, I suffer from writer's block just like every other author! I've got a major block on my sequel to Tell No Lies – spent ages figuring the plot out, got several chapters written and found myself stuck for no apparent reason. So that's been lying around untouched for a while, but this fic is getting plenty of attention in its place. Admittedly, it does take a while to edit chapters. This one (chapter four) started totally differently, but I stopped writing halfway through, re-read it, came to the abrupt conclusion that it was a pile of crap, mentally screwed it up and threw it in the bin (it was on my laptop, so I had to do it mentally!) and started all over again. That's what takes up most of the time! Rewrites! I do have a wonderful Beta in Lil Lupin who finds all the mistakes I don't, and gives me lots of pointers. I learn something new nearly every time she sends a chapter back to me. So don't be envious – I have lots of help.

**Cookie – **Cheers Cookie, I love a good angst myself. Hope you like the rest of the fic.


	5. Casting Blame

**Chapter Five: Casting Blame**

The days following the attack passed by in a hazy blur for Remus. By the time the Muggle fire brigade had arrived and put out the fire, the cottage was all but destroyed. The Lupins spent a sleepless night in a bed and breakfast in a neighbouring village, returning anxiously the next day to assess the damage.

The beautiful home that Remus had grown up in and known all his short life was now nothing but a blackened ruin

Standing a safe distance away with his parents on the path, Remus surveyed the smoking ruin with bleak dismay. Only a few walls were still standing, with skeletal beams hanging in the air, warped and twisted with nothing to support. Most of the roof had caved in leaving a dishevelled blanket of tiles and charred beams over the ground. His parents carefully picked their way among the rumble, using their wands to retrieve what few items had survived the purge of flames. All their clothes were gone, along with Julian's broomstick and much of the furniture. A number of cooking pots were deemed repairable and salvaged, along with some books that had been buried under part of the stonework which had fallen in, protecting them from the worst of the fire and smoke.

Cautiously, Remus walked around to what remained of his bedroom. Looking up at the shattered windowpane, framed by blackened stone, Remus spotted the charred coconut, still clinging helplessly to the window frame. There were no singing birds in the sky that morning, just an eerie silence and an air of bitterness and hate. Remus shivered in the warn sunshine, casting anxious looks at the neighbouring cottages. A curtain twitched at Mrs. Ramset's across the road. Not one of the villagers had come out to look at what had happened, nor to see whether the Lupins were all right. A few nosy Muggles had stopped to stare on their way past, but no hand of assistance was extended. Past the unsettling watchfulness of the unseen and unkindly eyes, the incident was barely acknowledged.

_This is all my fault, _thought Remus miserably, gazing about him. _If it weren't for me, this never would have happened. _

His parents blamed him; he knew they did. The villagers had turned against them all because he was a monster, something to be shunned and feared. If he'd never have gone into the forest, he'd still be normal and they'd still have a home …

'Remus! Come away from there, it's not safe!'

His mother was beckoning to him, standing precariously on a broken slab of stone. A moment later, Remus recognised it as the kitchen fireplace. Most of the contents were beyond recognition, but what Remus could identify only served to strike him harder as to what he'd done. Tears threatened to well up again but he forced the feeling down.

_Stop it, you've done nothing but cry like a baby for days; do something to help!_

Skirting round the base of the walls, Remus carefully picked his way over the rubble. A glint of light suddenly caught his eye, like metal flashing in the sun. Turning, Remus squinted into the dark crevices at his feet. Taking a step back and tilting his head, another flare of light shone from within the hole. Hesitantly, Remus glanced over to his parents. Neither of them were looking his way; both were preoccupied with extracting a large half-buried cauldron from under the debris of the pantry. Lying flat on his stomach, Remus reached into the crevice, feeling carefully.

'It's not too bad,' said Julian, levitating another chuck of brickwork out of the cauldron. 'I can straighten out most of the dents with a few charms.'

Diane nodded, setting the battered cauldron down on a grassy patch and dusting her clothes off. The pile of salvaged items was meagre indeed. So little had survived the flames undamaged.

_But we're all still here,_ Diane reminded herself. _That's the most important thing._

Clothes could be patched up, dents could be straightened out and most other items were repairable to some degree. But that small consolation did little to dispel the feeling of utter desolation and helplessness. Lip quivering, Diane couldn't bring herself to look over what had once been her beautiful home since she'd married Julian. She'd given birth to Remus there too, when he'd arrived earlier than expected and much too fast for the Lupins to get to the hospital in time. Now her small haven of happiness was forever tarnished in her mind as a place of assault and misery.

'Mum?'

Diane started. She hadn't heard Remus come up beside her. Hastily, she wiped her eyes before turning to smile at him.

'Yes, sweetheart?'

Remus didn't say anything. He hadn't missed the stifled sobs and the swollen redness of her eyes. Silently, he held out his clenched hand.

'What's this?'

Diane held out her hand and Remus dropped something small into her palm. Looking at it, Diane's heart gave a painful stab.

It was her silver locket: blackened slightly on one side from the ash but otherwise unharmed. The bag in which the locket had been sealed had been ruined by the fire, and had scattered its contents to the floor when the cottage fell apart.

Diane turned it over in her shaking hands and carefully unlocked it to gaze with watery eyes at the photographs inside. Smiling with relief, Diane held the precious locket to her and beamed at her son.

'Oh, Remus, _thank you, _where on earth did you find it? I -' She stopped suddenly. A look of wary suspicion clouded her features. 'Remus …' she said slowly. 'Show me your hands.'

Remus blinked, and dropped his gaze, holding his hands behind his back.

'Remus, show me your hands,' Diane said again, more firmly.

Slowly, Remus did as she asked, but kept his eyes on the floor. He didn't see his mother's face growing deathly pale.

'What's going on?'

Julian had approached, carrying a box of damaged books and parchment, looking between his wife and son with concern. Then he saw Remus' hands.

Remus winced in pain as his father dropped the box unceremoniously onto the ground and took hold of his hands, feeling carefully. His mother took one look at the silver locket in her hand, and then shoved it deep into her pocket. His palms were burnt red and sore from trying to handle the small locket. When he'd reached into the hole and brushed his fingers against the chain, it had been similar sensation to touching stinging nettles at first, painful and irritating. But as Remus had taken hold of the locket in his hand, it was as though it were on fire, yet he'd gritted his teeth and refused to cry out. He knew how much his mother loved it. Returning it was a small start to try and make things right.

Julian cast a cooling spell over the burns to help ease the stinging, but there was little else that could be done for a silver burn.

'What did we tell you about touching silver?' snapped Julian, when he was done. He stood up and jabbed his wand at the box, sending it over to the rest of the rescued items. It landed heavily next to them. 'You _know _not to touch it!'

Remus took a step back, fighting back tears.

'I – I just w-wanted to help,' he stammered.

'Julian, don't be mad at him,' said Diane sadly. Her husband shook his head and strode over to the pile. Remus sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

'It's all right,' whispered Diane, putting an arm round his shoulders and drawing him into a hug.

Remus swallowed hard.

'Why's Dad mad at me?'

'He isn't … he's just upset by what's happened.'

Remus knew she was lying to him. Of course, his father was mad at him: this was all his fault.

'I'm so glad you found my locket,' his mother whispered in his ear. 'Just try to remember not to touch anything silver again … you don't want to be burned again, do you?'

Remus shook his head. His palms were still stinging painfully, but he made no comment as he helped his mother and father sort through their things. By placing Enlargement Charms on the interiors of several bags, most of what they'd salvaged fitted inside relatively easily, whilst only weighing a quarter of what it should have done.

It had taken most of the day to complete their task. When the last bag was filled and Julian had slung it over his shoulder, the Lupins turned to survey the ruined cottage for the last time.

The fire had been a warning. The Lupins considered themselves lucky to have made it out alive, but it was foolish to believe that that was the end of it. They could not stay in the village, not without fearing another attack. Terrified at the thought, Diane and Julian had only one option. So with only the clothes on their backs and the bags of fire-damaged pots and pans, the Lupins left the ominously silent village behind them.

-o-

The county of Yorkshire was a beautiful place. Full of rolling hills, open fields and pastures, it had a wonderfully unspoiled air, untouched by large towns and busy roads that were gradually spreading like a malignant cancer over other parts of the country. Yet Yorkshire had thus far retained the tranquil atmosphere of the English countryside, rich in woodland life, and a sheep farming community at heart. The woolly creatures grazed in impressively sized herds, swarming over the green fields, followed by gambolling lambs that were now growing fat on their mothers milk, and more concerned with play than gazing as they explored their lush pastoral home.

Villages dotted the landscape in sporadic patches, the winding country roads linking them between the hills and over the moorland. Larger houses were situated out of the main village area, lording over extensive grounds and keeping areas of private woodland aside for the rearing of pheasants and deer. In between the smaller cottages and the grand manors, lay the larger homes of the more well off residents, mainly merchants or those fortunate enough to inherit such properties from deceased family members.

The Woodmeres were one such family. Phillip Woodmere and his wife, Margaret, had happily taken up resident in Bramble-Down House after Phillip's great-Uncle Charles had passed away. Charles Woodmere had been a wizard of renowned Herbologist knowledge and proprietor of many successful nurseries of rare species of plants, non-indigenous to the colder climate of the British Isles, acting as the main supplier to St. Mungo's Medical Potions research facility in London. Upon his death, his grand home passed to his great-nephew in which to raise his forthcoming children with his newly wed wife.

Margaret Woodmere had prided herself on her good fortune, being raised in a poorer area of London then meeting Phillip in her final year at Hogwarts School. He had been well off by anyone's standards and Margaret saw to it that she kept his full attention following their graduation, thus ensuring a stable relationship and consequent marriage. However, the sudden wealth had gone to the witch's head somewhat. Adopting a snobby attitude to her peers, Margaret lost many of her former friends but settled herself into the 'upper-class' circles, and over the years had secured a prestigious position as the Chair Woman of the Yorkshire Witches Society and was a keen Fancy Hippogriff rider.

All five of the Woodmere children, two sons and three daughters, had been lavished with all that their proud parents could bestow upon them as they grew up. All of them enrolled at Hogwarts in due course, leading Margaret to boast unashamedly at her Witches meetings about her intelligential offspring each being Sorted to Ravenclaw in turn. That is, until her youngest daughter started school. It was a messy letter that arrived by owl a few days later that Diane broke the news of being Sorted to Hufflepuff, her sloppy handwriting doing little to hide her pleasure at the result.

Margaret Woodmere had despaired that her way-would daughter would ever show herself to reflect her background, but the young witch had pursued Care of Magical Creatures and attended the school's duelling club in favour of her sisters' preferences for Arithmancy and the more docile Charms Club. The sport of Quidditch was not considered a lady-like pastime, but had her elder sisters not been so inclined to tell tales on her, Diane would have tried out for her House team at the first opportunity. As it was, Diane Woodmere had another reason for her interest in the sport: Julian Lupin, Keeper for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Convinced it was merely a 'passing phase', neither Phillip nor Margaret expressed too much concern over Diane's interests, until after both her elder sisters, Clarissa and Miranda, had settled down with fine wizards of other well off families and started young families of their own, that the Woodmeres questioned their headstrong daughter's intentions for the future.

'You're nearly twenty now, Diane,' said Margaret, fluttering about the kitchen in a swirl of pale yellow sparks as she straightened up the dining table for her weekly meeting and afternoon tea. 'You really should be thinking about finding yourself a decent husband, like Clarissa and Mark. My third grandchild is on the way and here you are still at home. Whatever are we going to do with you?'

'Mother, I'll get married when I find the right person,' was the dreamy response from by the window.

'Diane, _please_,' Margaret's face was pained. 'It's not lady-like to sit on a window ledge in that manner; get off there at once. Daydreaming – your head is too full of ideas and wistful thinking, my dear. Your duty lies in finding a decent husband and keeping a household well run … none of this silly _future_ nonsense.'

Diane simply replied to her mother's constant ramblings with an occasional 'yes, mother' or 'no, mother' as the conversation required. 'Decent' and 'husband' never went without the other as far as her parents were concerned. Though her father was not as insistent, he did share his wife's view of the matter. Gazing out of the window at the rolling hills, Diane imagined herself far away, with a little cottage of her own with a pretty garden. She had no desire or the patience for such a superficial lifestyle as this. The longing to make her own way in life had been nurtured from a few wistful musing into an attainable goal – once she had gathered the courage to take the first step.

And that step, included one Julian Lupin.

Secretly corresponding by owl post since leaving Hogwarts, Diane and Julian had long since fallen in love and made future plans together. Julian was more than happy with Diane's dream of a little cottage of their own, feeling an empathy towards her need to escape such a restricting life. Not claiming to be partially wealthy, Julian was nevertheless capable and resourceful. Talented in Charms and Transfiguration, combined with a love of flying had led him to an apprenticeship with Ottoman's Flights of Fancy as a designer and broom-crafter. With a secure job with some good prospects, Diane hoped that Julian would fall comfortably in her parents 'decent husband material' category.

Not one to abide with pet or nicknames, however fond, Margaret Woodmere took great offence at any attempt to address her as 'Maggie' or 'Marge'. Unfortunately, that had proved to be Julian's big mistake when Diane had first introduced him to her parents. All of Julian's valiant attempts at friendless had been given a very frosty reception, which had thus conceded itself to the norm for all future visits, especially when Julian and Diane announced at the New Year family gathering that they were engaged. Congratulations were extended though rather forced due to Mrs. Woodmere's sudden departure from the dining room and subsequent Basilisk-like glares at the young man who dared to whisk her daughter away.

The relationship between the Lupins and the Woodmeres had become very strained. Diane refused to allow her parents disapproving attitude spoil their happiness however, and found her dream home and set about expanding her knowledge of robe tailoring with a few other young witches in Sedbergh, working from home to procure work-robes for local companies.

Sadly, there was one part of the Lupins lives that remained unfulfilled. All attempts to start a family had failed. For two years Diane failed to conceive. Visits to Healers found an abnormality in her ovaries, which made it unlikely that she would ever have a child. Growing stubborn in her desire to keep her dreams alive, Diane tried everything to help her become pregnant. Then, several months later, after missing a period, Diane took a test.

'JULIAN! WE DID IT! WE'RE GOING TO BE PARENTS!'

The hysterically happy screams could be heard from the other side of the village.

But their happiness did not last long. Three weeks into the pregnancy, Diane suffered a miscarriage. It was a heart-wrenching blow, but a few months later, Diane pulled herself together, determined to try again.

'The Healers said I wouldn't get pregnant, but I did. If we can do it once, we can do it again,' was her firm belief. Julian, too, desired to raise to family, but when Diane suffered a second miscarriage eight months later, he tried to gently explain to his wife that even if they never had a child, it didn't mean they couldn't be happy. Adoption was always an option. Diane agreed, but in her heart, a child of her own flesh and blood was what she wanted above everything else, and they committed themselves to another attempt.

Two more years passed. At twenty-five, Diane had endured four miscarriages and was still childless. Correspondence between herself and her siblings became almost unbearable as they happily told of their children's antics, whether it was their first word, or a ride on a winged horse at a friend's house. Photographs of her nieces and nephews were often sent, sending fresh waves of misery and hope as Diane gazed at the chubby smiling faces, beaming as they posed with their proud parents, or in their new school robes. There was an almost smug tone to some of the letters as time passed and still Diane had no happy news to reply with. Julian was an only child and when his elderly parents passed away, he grew more anxious about the child-situation, knowing that his mother and father had wished for grandchildren too, but had been very sympathetic and supportive towards them both rather than flaunt photographs of smiling children at them at every opportunity.

Finally, when Diane and Julian had all but given up, a miracle happened. The Lupins were extremely wary at first.

'I'm only a few days late,' Diane had insisted, nervously picking at her food when she mentioned it to Julian that evening. 'It doesn't necessarily mean anything.'

Julian nodded; working to keep his face passive while his mind was in turmoil. Another miscarriage was more than either of them could bear. They didn't dare to get their hopes up; after all, what where the chances of this time being any different?

Several weeks passed, and still Diane didn't have a period. A slight weight gain gave her a heart a flutter, but again, she feared to try and confirm what had long since been labelled a hopeless cause by her family, and slowly gaining acceptance in her mind. But a seed of doubt had already been planted, and hope suddenly bloomed once more when Diane found herself being sick one morning in October. Bubbling with anticipation, yet quivering with fear and what felt like a million other conflicting emotions, Diane paced round and round the bedroom, desperately trying to leave the test alone for a few minutes to give an accurate result.

As Diane eventually picked up the test with trembling hands, the blue line that looked up at her seemed to glow with an unexpected radiance in the early morning light.

Julian had rushed home from work so fast that a Portkey wouldn't have kept up. But after the initial celebration, the Lupins calmed down and forcibly restrained their rapidly mounting joy. St. Mungo's Healers confirmed it a few days later.

'You're two months pregnant,' said the smiling witch. 'Congratulations!'

Diane and Julian were so overcome that they both broke down in tears of joy, hugging each other fiercely. Following the Healers orders to the letter, Diane and Julian did everything possible to ensure that Diane kept herself healthy and as calm as possible. The pregnancy progressed to its third and then fourth month. Finally out of the most dangerous time for risk of miscarriage, Diane sent out letters to her family to finally break the happy news.

The Woodmeres were pleasantly surprised to hear of Diane's long awaited pregnancy, though given past events, were reluctant to make a fuss. With twelve other grandchildren already in school, such a late addition seemed rather unprecedented. Phillip wrote Diane back with congratulations and best wishes, hopeful that this time, his pretty daughter would finally hold a baby of her own in her arms in a few months time.

Time passed swiftly for Diane and Julian, happily anticipating the birth. They had asked not to know the sex of the unborn child. After so much time, it hardly mattered whether it was a boy or a girl; they only wished for it to be healthy.

Then, six weeks prior to the expected due date, Diane awoke in the middle of the night in early February with sharp pains in her lower back. When they grew steadily worse, followed by Diane's waters suddenly breaking, the realisation hit them. Diane had gone into labour nearly two months early.

Frightened and in agony, the memories of all her earlier pregnancies came rushing back to Diane as Julian frantically contacted St. Mungo's. Closing her eyes tightly against the mounting pain, Diane begged whatever powers existed in the universe for the life of her child.

_Please don't rob us of this … we've waited so long … please, let my child live …_

The Healers arrived too late. When they Apparated to the cottage and Julian had led them inside and upstairs to the bedroom, Diane had already given birth. Her face wet with tears, but beaming as only a new mother can, Diane held the precious new child in her arms, too tired to speak. Julian cried at the sight of the child, tiny but perfect in every way. For quite some time, the two parents just held the baby between, admiring what they had created. In fact, it was a while before Julian thought to ask.

'Is it a boy or a girl?' he enquired as one of the Healers gently took the child to examine it.

'A boy,' sighed Diane happily, laying back against the pillows as the rest of the Healers checked her over.

Julian's face lit up, not able to take his eyes off his son, who was promptly screaming blue murder at being taken from his mother. The Healer waved her wand slowly over the crying child then handed him to his father, smiling.

'He's fine,' she assured them in hushed tones. 'Premature babies are always on the small side, but there's nothing physically wrong with him.'

Diane nodded, watching Julian hold his son to his chest. The tiny baby calmed down and opened his eyes, gazing out at the world with large pale eyes. The Healers looked on, smiling as they prepared to leave.

'What's his name?' asked one of the young wizards curiously.

Diane and Julian looked at each other.

'We haven't discussed it actually,' said Julian with a small laugh. 'We thought we still had time to think about it.' Brow furrowed, Julian lapsed into thoughtful silence, gently touching his son's cheek. The baby boy turned at the touch, squirming.

'He's hungry,' said Diane, her eyes half closed and her voice betraying how tired she was. Carefully, Julian laid the newborn in her arms once more.

'Di,' said Julian. 'I was just wondering if you did have any thoughts as to a name.'

Diane murmured an answer.

'I think he should have his daddy's name,' she whispered, grinning.

Julian blinked, and then his eyes shone.

'Well, I'm not sure if we ought to have two Julians; that might be rather confusing.'

'How about Jacob? After my great-grandfather?'

Julian mulled it over.

'I like it … I was going to suggest Remus, myself … after my father.'

Diane opened her eyes. She looked down at the feeding baby in her arms.

'Remus,' she said softly. The baby stopped suckling for a moment, squirmed and then settled down again. 'I'll take that as a "yes",' whispered Diane happily. She looked back up at her husband, who was waiting expectantly for her verdict. 'How does Remus Jacob Lupin sound?'

'That sounds perfect,' said Julian, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

In Diane's arms, Remus gave a little cough and cried, announcing his arrival to the world.

-o-

The birth of their son went a long way to alleviating the strained relationship between the Lupins and the Woodmeres, though contact remained at an almost minimal level. As Remus grew from a tiny baby into a bright little toddler, visits to the grandparents gradually increased. But after a while, the old arguments and stigma returned. Diane and Julian, overjoyed at having a child after so long, agreed that Remus was more than they'd hoped for. If another child came along then so be it, but after so much turmoil and emotional stress, they did not actively set out to have another. As far as they were concerned; one was enough.

As Remus grew older, it was clear that he wasn't overly keen on visiting his grandparents any more than his parents were. Though his grandmother happily sat him on her knee and would read him a story or share her Ginger Newts with him, the visits never felt comfortable to him. Conversation between the adults around him always seemed forced, and his father would fidget, usually excusing himself at the earliest polite moment and spent the rest of the visit in the garden, or in the conservatory during bad weather.

Remus knew little of what had gone on between his father and his grandparents before he was born, but he was perceptive enough to pick up that his grandparents disliked Julian, regardless of whatever he did or said.

However, with little choice as to where to go, the Lupins reluctantly headed for Yorkshire.

So it was with some trepidation that Margaret Woodmere opened her front door to her youngest daughter with her husband and son in tow, carrying between them all their worldly possessions in various battered boxes and bags, asking if they could stay for a while.

The reception was rather frosty. Mrs Woodmere cast an accusing eye over her son-in-law, before noting the state of her weary daughter and ushering them all inside, quickly closing the door behind them. Explaining the situation over a cup of tea, Diane kept everything brief, fearing her mother's retribution for her grandson's condition. Margaret listened in uncharacteristic silence, as did Julian, though his was due to the effort not to get on Mrs Woodmere's bad side the moment he stepped in the door. Mrs. Woodmere's expression went from haughty indifference, to curiosity, through to an unsettled confusion before looking at her daughter with ill-disguised enmity. She looked sharply at Remus, sitting on his father's lap.

'So …' she said finally, setting down her cup of Earl Grey. 'Remus is – has … well, this is quite …' She trailed off, somewhat lost for words.

Diane sighed.

'Remus has lycanthropy,' she said softly. It was painful to even think about, but her mother's expression was bringing out something else; something Diane had been dreading since they'd made the decision to seek refuge with the Woodmeres. 'There's nothing the Healers can do. The rest of the villagers weren't … _keen_ … on allowing us to stay, so we decided to leave.' When her mother still didn't comment, she added hastily, 'We won't stay long. We just needed somewhere temporary while we get ourselves sorted out.'

Margaret threw a sidelong look at Julian and Remus.

'Well, I suppose if it _is_ only temporary,' she said slowly, after a few minutes of stony silence, 'then you can have the guest room.'

Diane was thankful, but it was hardly the warm welcome she'd hoped for. Margaret quickly bustled out of the kitchen, muttered distractedly about rearranging her Society meeting. Julian watched her go, catching the expression of mingled disgust and horror on the old witch's face behind her daughter's back.

'Well,' he said sardonically. 'She took it better than I expected.'

'I think she needs a little time to get used to the idea,' said Diane. Her hands were twisting anxiously in her lap.

'Let's not stay long.'

'We won't. I don't want to be here any more than you do,' she hissed in an undertone. 'But if you have a better idea, then do share it and we'll go.'

Julian had no suggestion. They had nowhere else to go and they needed to report the attack to the Ministry. Julian set out early the next morning to London, intending to consult the Law Enforcement Department and the Werewolf Support Office for help and advice. Unfortunately, the results weren't as good as he'd expected. The Law Enforcement Squad duly noted the attack but could nothing as Julian was unable to identify the perpetrators, nor give a good reason for why anyone would want to attack his home. Julian had refrained from mentioning that his son had contracted lycanthropy, for fear it would lessen their chances further of gaining assistance. It made little difference. The Squad wasn't interested. Dejected but not deterred, Julian went straight to the Werewolf Support Service. He'd had better luck; at least the attack was taken more seriously, but there wasn't much the WSS could do. They advised that if the Lupins felt threatened then they ought to move away, to which Julian informed them that they already had taken that step but were at a loss for what to do next. The wizard Julian spoke to had assured him that he would try and locate a 'safe-zone', somewhere the Lupins could go where there were fewer wizards and less chance of being discovered. Apparently, there were several registered werewolves on a constant relocation programme, moving them on after every full moon to try and keep them safe. Concern at the prospect of almost continuous moving, Julian was reluctant to consent to the idea until he'd discussed it with Diane.

Upon his return to Bramble-Down, Diane, Julian and Remus discussed what options they had. There were few indeed. Finding another home could take a long time and Julian could not afford to take any more time off work; he'd already missed several days and was worried that any more would cast an unfavourable shadow on him. It was clear that knowledge of Remus' condition had spread fast at Ottoman's. So far, nothing had been said, but Julian had felt the eyes on him while he worked. He didn't say anything to Diane. She had enough on her mind.

Julian returned to work and Diane had agreed to wait for the Support Services to get back to them about a safe-zone, while trying to build bridges with her parents, a task that was problematical at best.

Phillip, upon learning of Remus' condition, was less than comfortable with the arrangement. The prejudice against werewolves was so deeply ingrained in the wizarding subconscious that both the Woodmere's were finding the news that their grandson had been infected very difficult to deal with. Phillip seemed to think that by ignoring Remus that the problem could be sufficiently hidden and refused to comment. Margaret on the other hand, once past the initial shock, found plenty to say, much to Remus' discomfort.

Having left his moody grandfather in the living room earlier that morning, Remus had amused himself by wandering around and exploring the rooms. A few had been decorated since his last visit, but the novelty quickly wore off. There was nothing to do, and he didn't have any of his toys to play with. The house seemed to be miles from anywhere so there was little chance of going into the village to find someone to play with.

At the thought, Remus recalled the callous attitude of the children of Sedbergh and shuddered. No. No one would want to play with him. So he took to meandering down the long hallway, gazing listlessly at the photographs that covered every inch of the flowery-patterned walls.

There were many of his aunts and uncles with all of their children, his elder cousins. Most of them were grown-up by now, one or two had married last year in fact. Remus had only met them a few times, but none had been especially interested in playing with him. A number of wedding photos adorned the wall nearer the kitchen, while individual shots of his cousins adored the stairwell and the upstairs landing.

Looking for his parents, Remus found only one of their wedding, a low-key affair though the two people in the photo were no less happy than the others, smiling and waving, his mother in a simple but pretty white dress and his father looking very smart in his suit. Searching the rest of the photos occupants (though proving tricky given the subjects tendency to wander into each others frames) Remus found it strange that he was only in one. It was a small picture, half-hidden among an array of larger baby pictures, his mother laying in bed and propped up on pillows, holding him to her, looking absolutely exhausted but happy.

He'd paused to watch his Aunt Clarissa struggling to keep three young boys on her lap, all of whom were fidgeting and trying to avoid the camera, or else pulling faces at him, when the sound of his mother and grandmother's voices caught his attention.

Remus turned to look down the hall towards the kitchen, where the door stood ajar. It was only due to the face that his grandmother was trying to keep her voice down whilst his mother answered quite normally, if a little sharply, that Remus had noticed anything. The odd exchange lured him to the door. Stopping just short of the threshold, Remus peered through the gap in the door and listened.

'How long?' asked Margaret, careful to keep her voice low. Holding a steamy cup of tea in her wizened hands, the old witch seemed to be under the impression that the half the village was listening in. Her dark eyes kept flicking to the open window.

Diane was out of Remus' line of sight, but he could hear her pacing slowly at the other end of the room.

'Just over a week,' she answered heavily.

Margaret raised her thin eyebrows.

'Well, you ought to get a move on then, hadn't you? I won't have it here, you understand? There's nowhere for him to be.'

There was a moment's pause.

'What do you mean by that?' came Diane's cool response. Remus leaned to one side, trying to catch a glimpse of her. He knew that tone. His mother was _not_ happy.

His grandmother sighed in exasperation.

'You _know_ what I mean, Diane.'

'No, I don't, Mother. If you have something to say, then say it.'

'I mean that when he … _changes_,' she whispered the word like it was a forbidden oath, her expression pained, 'then it ought to be as far from here as possible.'

'Mother, if you want us out, then you needn't have concerned yourself,' Diane snapped impatiently. 'We're leaving as soon as we can, which,' she added in a cold undertone as she crossed the room. Remus drew back as she walked past, 'in all honesty, is not soon enough.'

'I'm just saying that if it's going to happen, then it ought to be somewhere …' She waved her hand in front of her, searching for the word, '…safe.'

'For who? _You? _Are you afraid your social standing is going to suffer because your grandson has been attacked by a - '

'Diane Louise Woodmere, keep your voice down!'

Margaret fluttered over to the window and shut it with a firm flick of her wand.

'You can't even bare to _hear_ the word, let alone _say_ it!' Disgust vibrating in every syllable, Diane raised her hand to stop her mother as she opened her mouth to speak again. 'Your grandson is suffering from lycanthropy, damn it! That doesn't make him any different from the little boy you used to sit on your knee and tell stories to, or share those ginger newts with! He is my flesh and blood – _your _flesh and blood – and as his mother I will stand by my child for he has done _nothing_ to deserve this; don't you _dare _blame him for something that is not his fault!'

Remus took a step back, feeling terribly anxious. His mother rarely shouted. His grandmother fixed Diane with an appraising look, a sneer on her lips.

'Then whose fault is it?' She folded her arms and raised her voice loftily. 'Who is responsible? You say he was in the woods in the middle of the night -'

'It was nine in the evening, hardly the middle of the night, and he was on the edge of the woods,' Diane interrupted.

'Why was he even there?' Margaret carried on as if her daughter hadn't said a word. 'Why had he not been called inside before the moon was up? Who allowed him to be out of sight?'

'Are you saying this is _my _fault?' Diane asked incredulously.

Margaret held up her hands in mock surrender and said in a simpering voice, 'I'm not casting blame, Diane, merely making an observation.'

Diane glared.

'Oh, I see, of course, it makes perfect sense! I've never done anything right, have I, mother? I wasn't clever enough for Ravenclaw, and I certainly never liked acting like a prim and proper little madam all the time, while my _wonderful _sisters can do no wrong – _perfect _husbands and _lots _of children, whilst the man I chose to marry is _beneath _you and the one child I struggled for years to have is not worthy of your notice, let alone your love- '

'Diane - '

'And now Remus is ill with something that can't be cured, you won't even acknowledge him as family! I'm sorry to say this mother, but I think that's disgusting! You've always been disappointed no matter what it is I've done, but _don't you dare _take it out on Remus, not when he needs the support of his family more than anything else!'

'WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?' cried Margaret. Her wrinkled face was screwed up in anger. 'Carry on as if nothing has happened? Regardless of what he was before, that boy is going to turn into a monster; he's not even human any more. Now, I'm sorry it's happened but – '

'But what?' Diane looked like she'd been slapped hard in the face. She was staring in avid disbelief at the old witch. 'Sorry for what? For saying my son is less than human?'

'For telling you the truth.' Margaret's eyes were narrowed and cold. 'What kind of life can you possibly have now? In a weeks' time, you'll have a murderous beast on your hands and what are you going to do about that, hmm? No one in their right mind is going to help a vicious creature that will kill them as soon as look at them. Have you forgotten everything you learnt at school about them? They are soulless, evil creatures that ought to be destroyed … you may be under the delusion that it was a blessing that he even survived the attack, but I'll tell you the truth … he should have died … it would have been better for all of us if he had died, rather than still be alive and a monster.'

'No, _no, NO!_' Diane shook her head violently. Tears were streaming down her ashen face. 'Don't _say _that! Don't you _dare _say that about my son!'

'It's the truth!' Margaret crowed maliciously. 'Whether you accept now or later, you know it's true!'

'I _KNOW _IT'S MY FAULT!' Diane yelled back. 'Remus only did w-what I t-told him to do. I-I told him not to lose that s-stupid Quaffle – if I hadn't he wouldn't have gone after it into the w-woods and this never would have happened!' Shaking uncontrollably, Diane sank, sobbing, in the nearest chair.

Margaret stood there for a minute, watching her daughter cry her heart out, slumped over the table, her head on her arms. She heaved a sigh.

'I know this isn't easy, dear, but you must pull yourself together. You said so yourself; nothing can be done about it.' She spoke in what she must have believed to be a comforting tone, but Diane's cries only intensified. Awkwardly, Margaret reached out a withered hand and patted Diane's quaking shoulder. 'There, there, come along now, buck up. Whatever would your father say if he saw you bawling like a child -'

Diane abruptly sat up. She smacked her mother's hand off her shoulder and glared with cold fury in her wet eyes.

'Don't touch me,' she growled. Pushing the chair back, Diane leapt to her feet and stalked towards the door. Just as she reached it however, she spun on her heel to face her mother. The older witch appeared quite unconcerned by her daughter's reaction, but the intensity of her stare left Margaret unable to suppress a chill.

'I don't care what anyone else believes,' said Diane, her voice quite steady, 'and I never have. My son is not a monster. I love him too much just to give up on him; he deserves a chance like everyone else in the world. He survived for a reason, I'm sure of it … and I'm going to help him until he finds out what that reason is.'

Margaret said nothing. Turning her back on her mother, Diane wrenched the kitchen door open and swept out of the room.

The hallway was empty.

-o-

**_To Be Continued …_**

-o-

Please leave a review. All comments and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated.

-o-

**Author's Notes.**

**MissPadfoot92 – **I hope you enjoyed this long chapter (so much for my attempts to keep them short). Thanks for reviewing.

**Aerlalaith – **Hate crimes seem the norm with anyone or anything that isn't understood and feared. They aren't pleasant to write about and as a werewolf you can bet that Remus' life is going to be anything but easy. You may need to stock up on tissues.

**Evil spapple pie – **I have to agree with you whole-heartedly on that point. As for the incident being 'a warning', it was harsh but made a point. It would be possible to reconstruct the house with some magical assistance, but after that incident do you think the Lupins would really want to stay in the area?

**NightSpear – **I love to write angst, it brings out all kinds of emotion. The first transformation will be the next chapter and it's not a pleasant experience for Remus or his parents. On a happier note, I'm pleased to inform you that this fic will indeed be covering the 'marauder years' in due course. I've got so much to include rather than skimming over the first year, having his friends discover his lycanthropy and fast forward to the Animagus transformations. I'm determined to fill in a few blanks of what else went on whilst our favourite foursome of pranksters were at Hogwarts. Really looking forward to writing those chapters!

**Rawiya Prabhakar – **Thank you so much for saying so! Glad you're enjoying it so much.

**Shadow00 –** I've no intention of quitting on this fic, no worries. It's my personal favourite and it's going to be the longest one yet! Been trying to figure out whether I ought to continue it beyond Remus' school years and take it on through his involvement with the Order, the end of the last war and … I just had a vision of a hundred plus chapters – good thing, bad thing? Someone let me know before I go crazy and never stop.

**Yoda – **Yay! So glad you like it! (And thanks for pointing out that silly spelling mistake.) Ah, Mr Cuttlesworth, bigot falls short off what he is but it's probably the only insult I can get away with without being reported. He's based on someone I had the misfortune to know. Same with Tyler and Edna actually. They're not carbon copies of the real people but the attitudes are basically the same. I'm basing a lot of this fic on real events in my own life as Remus is the character I can identify with the most.

**Steph Silverstar – **I will be doing my best to keep this compatible with everything we know so far from JK.Rowling about Remus and the Marauders. I just hope that she doesn't reveal something that is going to conflict any of the ideas I have in mind already. Hope you'll enjoy the rest of the fic.

**Eladriewen - **Thanks for the review! The next chapter should be posted soon.


	6. The Transformation

**Author's Note: _I would like to give credit to Rage Point for posting a medical insight of the affects that the lycanthropic transformation has upon it's sufferers at , and for Green Eyed Lady for e-mailing it to me months ago. (Thank goodness I hoard e-mails!) It was an indisputable asset to writing this chapter, so many thanks to you both. Voltora _**

****

**Chapter Six: The Transformation. **

_One woe doth tread upon another's heels, so fast they follow _

William Shakespeare; Hamlet.

The tension at Bramble-Down was running higher with each passing day. By the end of the week the atmosphere was so unfriendly that conversation had been whittled down to the absolute minimum whenever it could not be avoided completely.

Since hearing his grandmother's cruel, but honest opinion about him, Remus had stayed out of everyone's way, including his parents. It had finally sunk in that that was what people wanted; for him not to be anywhere near them. Thus Remus spent the next few days either hiding down the bottom of the garden, or sitting in a corner of his grandfather's study, quietly listening to the radio. He made a few half-hearted attempts to read some of the books, but most of them were dull and full of long, complicated words that he'd never heard of nor understood, and he soon gave up.

His father left the house early every morning and only returned late in the evening, often speaking quietly to Diane after Margaret and Phillip had gone to bed. The Support Services were trying to find somewhere for them to go, but with each passing day Diane's hope turned to anxiety as Julian returned each time with no news.

Remus, too, was growing restless. He'd all but lost his appetite and felt constantly tired; something his parents noticed with increasing unease.

Finally, barely two days before the full moon, Julian heard from the Support Services.

Not a work was spoken by the Woodmeres as they observed the Lupins gathering their belongings that evening and placing them in the hallway before going to bed. Without being told, Remus silently did the same, feeling relieved that they were leaving at last. The expression of disgust on his grandmother's face when she looked at him had forever tainted his memories of this place.

Early the following morning, the Lupins ate a hasty breakfast of egg and toast before Diane took Remus' hand and led him out of the house, his father carrying their things.

As they walked away down the path, Remus tentatively looked back over his shoulder. Two dark silhouettes at the upstairs windows slowly withdrew, the net curtains falling back into place.

Once the Lupins were beyond the anti-Apparition field, Julian drew his little family close, and waved his wand. In the blink of an eye, they were gone.

-o-

The little cottage wasn't much to look at. It was very rundown and clearly needed a lot of work. The roof was missing several tiles and the crooked chimney appeared ready to topple at the slightest breath of wind. The stonework was grubby, the windows needed cleaning and the front gate was hanging on precariously by a single hinge.

'It's not much,' the farmer admitted, carefully opening the gate and leading the way up the weed-covered path. 'But if you're looking for somewhere with a lot of character, then you've found it.'

His new tenants cast wary eyes over the decrepit building but didn't comment. The young couple had been very polite when they'd turned up on Mr Giles' doorstep that morning, inquiring as to the cottage for rent. Their requirements and questions hadn't been like those of most people looking for somewhere to live, but as Mr Giles wasn't in the habit of being too picky about potential clients he'd happily invited them in for a cup of tea to discuss it.

They'd been quite eager, taking him aback after he'd asked when they'd be thinking of moving in if they found the property acceptable.

'Today?'

Mr Giles put down his cup of tea and blinked hard at them both.

'Is that not possible?' inquired Mr. Lupin anxiously. His wife looked almost distraught, holding their young son tightly on her lap.

'Well, yes, of course it's possible,' said Mr. Giles hastily. 'It's just most people prefer to have a look around the place before making a decision. But,' he went on hurriedly, 'if that's what you want, then it's no problem at all.'

_They certainly are peculiar_, the farmer had thought to himself as he drove them up to the cottage in his land rover. _But beggars can't be choosers, I always say._

The old cottage was about two miles away from the main farmhouse, and situated beside some dense woodland, a far distance from the nearest village of Helmsley. It used to be a fairly popular hideaway for holiday makers in the summer months, often people from London wishing to escape the huge city and to experience the peaceful countryside. But with foreign holidays gaining popularity, the cottage hadn't seen many tenants the past few years and, with no one to spare the time to attend to it, it has fallen slightly into disrepair. Mr Giles cringed a little as it came into view, but hid it quickly with a smile, not wanting to put his new tenants off in spite of their insistence. There was nothing to stop them changing their minds about staying.

'I've not had any tenants for a while,' Mr. Giles admitted truthfully. 'What with me and the missus being so busy up at the farm we've not had much of a chance to give the old place a proper seeing to.'

The Lupins stopped to give the cottage a good look.

'It's not so bad,' muttered Julian, almost apologetically to his wife, who was looking rather apprehensive. 'We're miles away from anywhere … the – the woods are right there … it'll be fine …'

Diane stared blankly at the woods, and then gave a shaky nod. Mr. Giles noticed the little boy with them was clinging to his mother's hand and seemed to be trying hard to avoid everyone's gaze.

'It's a great place for kids,' Mr. Giles tried. 'Open fields over that way to run around in, and the wood's perfectly safe -'

'May we have a look inside?' said Julian, cutting him off.

Mr. Giles nodded, removed a rusty key from his pocket and stepped up to the front door, which was in dire need of a lick of paint. At least three faded and murky colours could be made out from the peeling patches. Rattling the key around a bit, Mr. Giles gave the door a swift kick to the bottom corner and it opened with a reluctant groan.

'I'll send one of my farm-hands to sort that out tomorrow,' he half-muttered, stepping over the threshold.

Shafts of gloomy light filtered in through the dirty windows, half illuminating the spacious living area. Hastily working his way around the room, Mr. Giles pulled off the sheets covering the armchairs and the sofa, sending clouds of dust swirling into the air.

'Er … let's see; the kitchen's just through there, and the staircase is over there. Main bedroom's right in front of you as you go up, and the smaller one is to your left. Bathroom's got hot running water last I checked, but any problems there's a phone here with the number of the farmhouse.'

Both the senior Lupins nodded before cautiously roaming the rooms. The wooden staircase creaked in protest as Diane made her way upstairs whilst Julian went to survey the tiny kitchen. Seeing their son lingering shyly by the front door, Mr. Giles offered a cheery smile.

'Come for a nice holiday, eh, lad?'

The little boy stared back with wide, pale eyes, and didn't say anything. His gaze flitted round the room then up to the beamed ceiling with its many cobwebs lurking in the corners.

'Bet you wanted to go to the seaside, eh?' said Mr. Giles, taking the child's silence as disappointment in the choice of location. 'You'll have just as much fun here, I promise you. Lots of places to explore and run around in.'

Remus watched the Muggle warily, before lowering his gaze to the floor. He didn't want to answer any questions and knew not to say anything about why they were here. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Muggle's smile fade uncertainly.

Just then, Julian came back in from the kitchen. Mr. Giles turned to him and hitched his smile back into place.

'Well, what do you think?'

'It's fine,' said Mr. Lupin, somewhat distractedly. 'But I was told there was a basement?'

'Ah, yes, it's just through here.' Mr. Giles indicated a door behind him. 'Used to be a wine cellar many years ago, but it's mostly for storage now. I can lend a hand if you want some of it cleared out; I could send someone along tomorrow morning.'

'No, thank you, that won't be necessary.'

The stairs creaked loudly as Diane returned from upstairs.

'Everything all right?' inquired Mr. Giles, hopefully.

Diane and Julian exchanged a look, each glancing out of the murky windows, before nodding.

Julian turned back to Mr. Giles.

'We'll take it.'

Mr. Giles beamed.

'Excellent! Are you planning on staying long?'

'Well …' Mr. Lupin exchanged another look with his wife. 'For the foreseeable future, at least.'

'That's fine, just keep me informed and I'm sure we'll get along nicely. The rent's due at the end of every month and I'll send someone round to check the heating and plumbing every now and then; you just let me know of any problems. If that's everything, any questions? No? Then I'll leave you to settle in. Oh, my wife, Bessie, (bless her heart,) she'll probably pop round in the morning with some milk and eggs; likes to make people feel welcome, she does.'

Diane smiled indulgently and nodded. The Muggle was a pleasant enough man and very helpful, but they had more pressing matters to deal with than continuing to make polite conversation.

When Mr. Giles had finally taken his leave and his land rover disappeared round a corner in the road, the Lupins quickly used their wands to bring all their belongings inside.

Remus took his own small box of things upstairs, slowly climbing the stairs to the room that would be his. It was very small and the bed consisted of a bleak looking metal frame and a thin mattress. He found the entire place cold and depressing; everything seemed to creak and groan when forced to move. The shabby wallpaper was damp in one corner from mould, and the window rattled as the wind picked up.

The day had started out warm and sunny, but as it wore on, dark clouds swarmed overhead on an increasingly high wind. The trees in the woodland behind the cottage swayed, their leaves rustling loudly. By late afternoon, the rain had begun.

Diane and Julian stared bleakly out from the kitchen window at the darken woods.

'We can't leave him outside,' Diane insisted wearily. 'He's not well as it is.'

Julian nodded.

The original plan had been to take Remus deep into the woods and to maybe tie him to a tree so he couldn't run off once the transformation had occurred. The Support Services had given the Lupins all the advice they could, but it was all up to Diane and Julian. Diane had hated the very idea of leaving Remus outside and alone, whilst a part of her understood why it was the safest thing to do. But seeing the appalling weather closing in around them, she couldn't bear the thought.

'We don't have much time; where else can he go?' asked Diane, failing to keep her voice calm. Remus was upstairs in his room, and she didn't doubt for a minute that he was listening in.

'The cellar. But we'll have to work quickly.'

Nodding, Diane snatched up her wand and followed her husband to the cellar.

Upstairs, as Diane had predicted, Remus lay on his bed, listening to his parents talking. At his mother's insistence, Remus had stayed upstairs out of the way whilst they'd worked to make the cottage more habitable. No one wanted to think about what was going to happen that night. Preparations had been discussed days ago, but the sudden change in the weather had thrown everything out of the window. Panic was settling in on all of them.

Remus listened with growing apprehension to the sounds coming from the cellar. Rolling over onto his side, Remus hugged his knees to his chest and stared blankly out of the window at the dark sky. Rain hammered on the window.

The room was cold and Remus sniffed. Though his parents had noticed how pale he'd become over the past few days, Remus had reframed from telling them how ill he really felt. His stomach was churning so badly he hadn't eaten anything all day. Remus closed his eyes against the mounting headache. His whole body felt sore and oddly tingly, as though something was crawling over his skin.

Tonight was the night, and no one had any idea what to expect, least of all Remus.

All he could do was wait.

-o-

It was nearly eight o'clock when Diane slowly ascended the stairway.

'Remus …'

She called softly to her son, and cautiously tapped on the door to his room. When he didn't answer, she pushed it open with shaking hands and peered inside.

Remus was sat on the edge of his bed, staring out of the window at the pouring rain. Slowly, he turned to his mother; wide, fearful eyes gazed at her from a deathly pale face. Remus was shaking.

Diane closed her eyes for a moment, summoning all her courage to keep from crying. Remus was frightened and needed her to be strong. She couldn't allow herself to think about was about to happen. It didn't seem real, like it was a horrible nightmare that they all ought to be waking up from at any moment.

But the end was never going to come.

Tentatively, she held out her hand.

For a few moments, Remus didn't move. Then, with painstaking slowness, he got down from the bed, paused to look once more out of the shimmering curtain of rain pouring down the window, then, head bowed, moved on unsteady feet to the door.

Gently taking his hand in hers, Diane gave it a reassuring squeeze; but the clamminess of her palm betrayed the absence of courage she felt.

Julian was waiting for them downstairs. He stood before the short passageway leading to the cellar. The thick wooden door behind him stood ajar, a faint smell of mould wafting up from the darkness, into which a cold stone stairway led.

Remus held back as his mother tried to lead him inside.

'I – I don't want to go,' he said, his voice quaking.

Diane faltered. Her husband, though equally distressed, gave her a beseeching look. Neither of them wanted to do this, but they didn't have any choice.

'You have to, sweetheart,' said Diane. Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. Gently, she pulled on Remus' hand, coaxing him towards her. 'Come on, now, you'll be okay. I'm coming down with you.'

Remus took a few steps, feeling as though he were about to faint. Waves of dizziness were threatening to overpower him, but somehow he managed to reach the door without falling over.

His father put an arm around his shoulders and urged him on.

'Quickly now,' he said, 'there isn't much time.'

The barely concealed fear in his father's voice was enough to make Remus want to bolt. If his own father was terrified then what could he, Remus, possibly do? He didn't know what was going to happen to him exactly, but the fear emanating from his parents was contagious.

Taking a hesitant step through the door into the shadows, Remus followed his mother carefully down the steps, Diane holding her wand out in front of her, a narrow beam of light cutting through the gloom. Julian followed them down.

The smell of stale air and mould, mingled with alcohol, grew stronger as Remus descended into the darkness, his shoes scuffing on the stonework. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Remus could see by the wand-light that the cellar was full of boxes and a multitude of old, long forgotten items covered in dust. A shaft of twilight, rippling with the rain, cut a path through the gloom, emanating from a small window near the ceiling. A thick tapestry of cobwebs adorned every corner and crevice. Pieces of old furniture; torn paintings and battered banners stuffed into boxes; rusted tools and even a full length mirror propped up against the wall; the glass had been struck in the centre, creating a spider web-like image of broken shards.

The cellar was long and the far end was lost in darkness, rows of wooden structures disappearing from sight along the walls, holding a few dark bottles, thick with dust.

A large space had been cleared at the base of the stairs and swept up. As Remus stepped down from the stairs he could feel the magic in the air as if he'd passed through an invisible curtain.

Dropping to her knees in front of him, Diane held her son by his shoulders and whispered hoarsely; 'You'll be okay … it – it'll be over soon, and your father and I won't be far away … we'll be right upstairs …'

Unable to hold back any longer, Diane's lip quivered and the tears raced unhindered down her cheeks. Wrapping her arms around him, she drew Remus to her and hugged him tight. Remus gave a croaky sob as his father placed a hand on his mother's shoulder and whispered; 'It's time.'

As his mother slowly drew back and stood up, Remus threw himself at her and clung to her, burying his face into her side.

'Don't go!' he wailed. 'I don't want to be down here alone!'

But his protests did little to defer his parents. His father gently, but firmly, took hold of Remus and made him let go.

'Diane, go back upstairs.'

'But -'

'Now, _please_.'

Remus felt worse than ever as his mother reluctantly did as his father asked. As she neared the door, Julian turned back to Remus.

'I know you're scared,' he said softly, 'but I know you can be brave. You aren't scared of the dark, are you?'

Remus shook his head, sniffing. He didn't use to be. But he couldn't tell his father that, especially as his father gave him an encouraging half-smile.

'We can't stay down here with you, so you've got to be brave for us. Can you do that?'

Again, Remus nodded.

The forced smile was working to stay in place as Julian held up his wand. Remus looked at it, feeling a small flicker of hope. He loved to watch his parents do magic. Julian flicked his wand and muttered something under his breath. Four bubbles blossomed out of the wand tip, glowing with a ghostly light as they floated upwards. They reached the ceiling and stopped there, clustering together to increase the glow. Remus watched them, feeling a small part of the fear drain away.

'Remember, the light will keep you safe,' said Julian. 'Whatever happens, stay with the light and you'll be okay. We'll be back for you in the morning, all right?'

Remus nodded, still gazing up at the balls of light.

Giving his son a final hug, Julian kissed him tenderly on top of his head, and slowly backed away towards the stairs. Remus stayed where he was, pale eyes glinting in the half light.

For a few moments, both his parents stood framed in the doorway above him, the warm light of the living room shining from behind them, casting their faces into shadow.

Then the heavy door slowly swung closed, blocking them from view and cutting off the light, leaving the cellar in semi-darkness. A key scraped in the lock, and then silence fell.

Alone and with his fears racing back, Remus stood staring at the door, silently asking his parents to open the door and come back. He didn't want to be down here all alone in the dark. Tears stinging his eyes, he forced himself to look up at the bubbles of light floating up above him. The little pool of light around him did little to keep his mounting anxiety at bay.

Shivering, Remus sat down on the floor and hugged his knees, rocking back and forth. He felt horribly sick.

Outside, the rain suddenly intensified, hammering against the window pane with increasing fury, the wind howling.

At first, Remus didn't notice the soft, misty white glow as it started to weakly permeate the room through a break in the clouds. But as it touched him, a hot prickling sensation swarmed over his skin, and he turned, lifting his head to squint up at the grimy little window as the full moon rose into the sky.

Gasping in surprise and pain, Remus clutched at his chest. Beneath the thin shirt he wore, a searing pain across his scar rendered Remus breathless. Eyes wide, Remus feverishly pulled at his shirt, tearing it off and casting it aside.

All over his body, his skin was burning, yet shivering uncontrollably. The pain tore through him, turning his stomach and shooting into his arms and legs, rendering his thin frame rigid for an instant before sending him scrawling across the dirty floor.

Panicked, Remus scratched at his skin frantically, whimpering and crying, but the itching would not be relieved. It rapidly transgressed from intense aggravation to horrendous agony as Remus became horribly aware of every bone in his body as each one started to warp and twist.

Remus was screaming incoherently as loud cracks rent the air, sending fresh waves of pain coursing through him. His entire skeleton was snapping and re-shaping, forcing themselves into new positions, twisting and pulling the muscles with them. Every nerve was on fire; Remus could barely hear his own hoarse cries. His vision was swimming dangerously, blackness gathering at the edges, threatening to drag him down into unconsciousness.

But that small mercy would not be granted.

Sheer agony that was beyond description racked Remus' body to the edge of delirium; he no longer knew where he was. He only wanted for it to end. Time was irrelevant. His fragile little body was mutating at a startling speed, yet Remus could feel every single torturous alteration as if it were taking an eternity, deliberating drawing out the pain.

A fresh horror awoke in Remus' mind as he realised through the haze that his skeleton was not only reshaping, it was growing. Muscles went into spasms and skin rippled in protest, threatening to split as they struggled to keep up. And all the while, dark brown and grey fur was sprouting all over, burning as it sprouted through his skin.

He slammed his hands on the floor, scrabbling against the dirt as silvery grey and brown fur spread down his arms. Hard callused pads were forming rapidly on his palms, his fingernails blackening, then pushing outwards, curving into sharpened claws.

Overcome with fear and pain, Remus' throat was raw with his screams for help. In a moment of madness, Remus managed to get onto his hands and knees and flung himself against the nearest wall. The sudden jolt seemed to deaden the pain for an instant, but it returned with a vengeance as the transformation progressed.

Tearing at his skin, Remus screamed as his claws tore through his flesh. Blood welled from the deep scratches he had inflicted upon himself. The blood dripped to floor as he fought not to throw up.

Inside, his stomach gave a sickening jolt. Remus coughed fiercely with a mouth and throat that was no longer human. His jaw was nearly numb as Remus' teeth pushed roughly forwards, growing huge and pointed. Then his face bulged out. Before his terrified gaze, a short snout was straining out from his face, taking his jaw bone with it. The blinding pain reached a peak as his skull reformed. His ears already itching terribly with the sprouting fur, forced their way up to rest on top of a flattened head.

Writhing on the floor, Remus felt his knee joints reverse and an unbearable throbbing at the base of his spine as new bones painstakingly forced themselves into the beginnings of a tail. Tears raced down his now-furry cheeks as Remus gave a pitiful moan, no longer able to form coherent sounds with the misshapen muzzle his mouth had become.

Then, his heart stopped. Only for an instant, but it was long enough for Remus give a ragged croak – just as his lungs seized up. Deep inside, all the internal organs gave an almighty jolt, as they sought new locations within the growing, mutating body.

Remus opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't scream.

All the air had exploded from his lungs with a violent contraction. Staring wide-eyed at the distant ceiling, Remus was only dimly aware that everything around him was losing its colour. The cellar, already a cove of shadowy blue and grey beyond the pool of light in which Remus lay parallelised, was growing dull but at the same time becoming clearer. The darkness was lifting as the night vision of the werewolf asserted itself. There was no way for Remus to see it, but his eyes were rapidly losing the soft blue-grey, and turning into glowing amber.

Abruptly, his lungs resumed pumping. Gasping and gulping erratically, Remus forced air into them, heedless of the additional pain it caused. He was almost beyond feeling anything anymore.

An unearthly sound warbled out of his throat as the lupine form neared its end. Thrashing violently, Remus rolled off his back and onto all fours. He blinked hard, squinting blearily with strange new eyes into the shattered mirror before him.

The mutating shape that rippled across the splintered shards stared out with bright, glowing amber eyes. The shoulders of beast were hunching, and the short muzzle opened in a snarl, revealing a mouthful of sharp, serrated teeth.

_NO!_

Remus longed to tear himself away from the reflection but the unfamiliar limbs would not respond to his frantic, silent pleas. Shaking his head wildly, Remus' mind screamed as his voice died.

_No – NO! That's not me – IT'S NOT ME, IT'S NOT!_

He yelped as the razor-like teeth caught his tongue. Remus shook his head, whimpering. His body was shaking violently, his four long legs splayed as he tried to stay on his feet, backing away unsteadily. He tasted blood in his mouth …

Remus froze, petrified, as he felt something stirring. It felt inexplicably as if something was waking up from deep inside. An insatiable hunger was bubbling up inside, craving the warm coppery fluid that came with a kill … the primal instincts of the hunter were taking control, and, before Remus had a chance to resist it, felt his fragile hold on his strange new body brutally shoved aside, and a final wave of pain washed over him from head to tail as the new form fully asserted itself, forcing the young human being known as Remus Jacob Lupin down into darkness.

The werewolf lifted its head and opened its jaws, unleashing a haunting cry into the darkness.

The transformation was complete.

-o-

Upstairs, huddled against the battered door with tears flowing unhindered down her face, Diane froze and stared unseeingly at the barrier between her and her son as the rise and fall of the wolf-song took the place of the petrified screams, the cries for helps, and the racking sobs.

Sick with dread, Diane's body trembled as she fell to her knees, whimpering under her breath.

'Remus …'

-o-

As the song died on its tongue, the werewolf spun round, the amber eyes flashing as it took in its surroundings. The darkened room was dimly lit from above, but the shadows meant little to the wolf. Eyes penetrating the gloom, the werewolf raised its head and sniffed the air. This place was devoid of life as far he could see, but fresh scents lingered on the stale air.

He could smell blood.

Lowering his muzzle, the wolf sought out the smears of blood on the floor. Eagerly, the wolf lapped it up, revelling in the warm, coppery taste, as it sent shivers of ecstasy through him, leaving him hungry for more.

By the taste alone, somewhere in the werewolf's subconscious, an image was conjured. He knew what kind of creature he sought. It was the only one that could satisfy his hunger.

It only took a few moments for the last vestiges of blood to be lapped up from the ground. A gritty layer of dirt on the tongue was the animal's only reward for seeking more. A growl of frustration rumbled from his throat as the wolf searched in vain for more.

He wanted to hunt. He _needed _to hunt.

Abruptly, the werewolf lifted his head. A new scent had caught his attention. Ears pricked for any sound, the wolf froze. In moments, he'd pinpointed the source.

A low moaning was coming from somewhere above.

Silent as the shadows, the werewolf slunk low to the ground, the four large, padded paws carrying him lightly to the foot of the stone staircase. A narrow strip of light shone under the door at the top. A shadow fell across it; his prey was on the other side.

The wolf was salivating. The hunger was nearly overpowering, but the wolf succeeding in holding himself in check. He knew instinctively that rushing in was not the way to a successful hunt. It required patience, speed and skill.

Eyes locked on his target, the wolf remained motionless. Crouching low to the ground, breathing in the rich scent, the beast waited. The creature above him was afraid; he could smell it. And it excited him.

The sense of smell was the werewolf's most powerful sense, and the greatest asset to hunting. A wealth of information could be deduced by the prey's scent. With one sniff, the wolf knew instinctively that his prey was female, weak and very scared. It wasn't young, nor old; an adult in its prime. The strange creature was shuffling around restlessly, making strange verbal noises.

The werewolf took a step forward, placing on large paw on the first step, shifting his balance carefully.

But as he did so, a peculiar sensation touched his paw and he withdrew it quickly. Ears pricked, the werewolf sniffed the step uncertainly. Again, he felt it, this time on his muzzle. With a snarl, the wolf backed away and shook himself. There was something unseen and unpleasant which the wolf could not fully comprehend. What he did understand, however, was that it was preventing him from proceeding. The werewolf growled threateningly at the invisible foe.

'Remus?'

The werewolf stopped. The sound was meaningless in itself, but it carried the tone of fear. Saliva dribbling from its open jaws, the wolf tried to approach the stairs a second time. Stopping just short of the step, the wolf cautiously raised a paw and placed it on the step. A pressure seemed to be exerting itself upon his paw, sending a cold shiver through his body. But this time, the wolf stayed where he was. Although the feeling made him want to back off, it was not causing any pain.

'Remus? Can you hear me?

The soft sound drew the wolf's attention once more. 'Remus, are you all right? Speak to me!'

For a moment, the werewolf couldn't move. Something other than the invisible barrier was holding him back; a strange feeling from inside. For a moment, the idea of hunting the creature above him caused a sense of panic and bewilderment.

But the werewolf didn't understand the alien thoughts, and besides, they were too faint and insignificant. He didn't need to understand. The urge to hunt was stronger.

His prey was moving. A hesitant tapping on the door came through into the cellar.

'Remus, _please_, say something!' the panicked creature whimpered.

Focusing intently on his target, the wolf took another step up the stairs. The coldness intensified, cutting through the wolf's thick pelt, but it growled deep in its throat and held its ground. But another scent was rapidly approaching and new sounds reached the wolf's sensitive ears.

'Diane, come away from there!'

'I can't hear him, Julian, I can't hear anything!'

Snarling, the werewolf braced himself, the muscles in his shoulders and legs tensing. The new arrival was male and would undoubtedly be protective of his mate. Already he could sense the unease emanating from the behind the door.

'Di, please come away. I know this is hard but … you can't stay here all night; it wouldn't do you any good.'

'It's not me I'm worried about.'

'There isn't anything we can do.'

'Of course there is! I-I can stay right here, as close to my son as I can until … until the moon sets.'

There was a brief pause.

'No.'

'What?'

'No. I can't stand to see you like this Di … please, come away. We can't do anything else now … and if you don't rest you won't be able to help Remus when the morning comes. Diane? Diane, _please_ listen to me! Don't torture yourself like this …'

Movement: the shadows at the door shifted. No! His prey was going to escape!

With a vicious snarl, the werewolf surged forward, only to slam painfully into the unseen barrier. A sudden shock surged through the wolf, sending it reeling backwards with a plaintive yelp. A cry sounded from upstairs at the noise. Dazed, the wolf found its feet, gave itself a quick shake to clear its head and turned, teeth bared, to the rippling air before it.

Not understanding this strange foe, the werewolf lashed out with its claws, raking the air. But the Barrier held. The werewolf responded with growing frustration, flying at the force that caged him. Again and again, the enraged beast attacked, clawing and slashing, snapping and body-slamming.

Though the Barrier Spell had been well cast, it was weakening rapidly under the viciously relentless attack. Light blue ripples swam over its surface, swirling … churning. Then, abruptly, the spell fell apart and the werewolf sprang up the stairs, its four powerful legs propelling the huge creature forward with incredible speed.

Bounding over the last few steps, the wolf flew at the heavy wooden door. There was a horrific bang as the animal struck the wood with all its strength. It shuddered, but did not give way. Two terrified yells sounded on the other side of the door.

-o-

Diane stared wide-eyed at the door as it shuddered again. Julian held her close, carefully edging away.

'He broke through the Barrier Spell,' he whispered fearfully. 'It wasn't strong enough.'

He could feel his wife tensing beneath his touch, resisting him as he tried to pull her back.

'Di,' said Julian, fighting to keep his voice low and steady. 'Don't …'

'He's my son,' Diane whimpered, her voice bordering on hysterical. 'He's my son …'

'No,' hissed Julian, his heart breaking as the words passed his lips. 'That's a werewolf in there; it's not Remus.'

'It _is _him!' Diane shrieked. Furiously, she pulled out of Julian's grasp and threw herself at the door.

'REMUS! Remus, can you -'

But just as she reached it, a thunderous howl sounded and the door gave an almighty shudder as the imprisoned creature rammed its entire body against it. Diane fell back with a cry. She fell to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried in vain to call to the child who no longer knew who she was.

Julian dived forward and pulled her away. Pushing her away into the living room, Julian turned back to the door and raised his wand.

-o-

Bruised and shoulders sore, the werewolf backed away momentarily. The enticing scent of human prey had driven him to insatiable bloodlust; he ignored any feelings of pain and launched a new attack, rearing up onto his hind-legs and slashing with his sharp black claws.

-o-

Great splinters appeared in the door as the werewolf threw itself against it in an increasing rage. Furious scrabbling of claws raked down the door, and the faint sound of deep-throated snarls.

Taking a steadying breath, Julian spoke an incantation and jabbed his wand at the door.

-o-

A red glow clouded the wolf's vision and a fiery heat seared through the wood, flared in the wolf's face. Howling in pain, the werewolf withdrew. Pawing at its eyes, the wolf stumbled backwards. For a moment, it couldn't see, but the moment its vision cleared, the werewolf snarled and flew at the door once more, only to be met with the same fiery pulse emanating from the door. This time it was stronger and much more painful.

The werewolf, howling with rage, turned and fled.

-o-

'What are you doing?' Diane screamed. 'Stop it!'

'I can't let him escape!' Julian yelled. His hand shook but kept his wand trained on the door. Another jet of fiery red light lanced from the wand-tip and vanished through the door. Trapped inside, they could hear the werewolf howling, but from further away.

Julian closed his eyes. There was pain evident in the primal sound, and he had caused it. A part of him argued the necessity, but the other part hated him for it. That beast had been his son only a short while ago, yet if he showed any mercy or pity towards it; it would kill him and Diane without hesitation. Then who would be there to help Remus when he changed back? Assuming he would even survive it. Julian had not been deaf to his son's cries. There were no words to describe the pain any of the Lupins' had felt.

Brow furrowing in sudden conviction, Julian brought his wand up sharply and cast spell after spell, reinforcing the door with every spell he knew. Jets of red, blue, green and deep purple struck the door in turn.

When he was down, he turned to Diane. She stood anxiously a few feet away, wringing her hands. She looked as though she were about to collapse but was forcing herself to stay standing.

'Go upstairs,' said Julian, quietly, firmly. 'Stay in the bedroom. Don't come back down.'

Diane opened her mouth to argue, to protest. But looking at the expression on her husband's face, she fell silent. She wanted to stay, yet in her heart she knew there was nothing she could do.

'I'll stay here,' said Julian. 'Just to make sure …'

Exhaustion catching up on her, Diane nodded and slowly retreated from the passage. Julian waited until her light footsteps receded upstairs and the bedroom door closed over.

He knew she wouldn't sleep. How could any mother settle down to sleep while her child suffered so?

How could a father feel anything but helplessness?

Sombrely, Julian turned to gaze at the heavy door at the end of the passage. The haunting cry of the wolf within sent shivers down his spine. Julian tightened his grip on his wand.

-o-

The howl of fury echoed off the stone walls of the cellar. The wolf fell silent for a moment, pacing restlessly in tight circles. Its body was quivering with pent up energy, crying to be unleashed.

The prey had escaped. The hunt had failed. The werewolf was starving, angry and restless.

With a sudden burst of speed, the wolf ran the length of the cellar, scrabbling at the walls at the far end before turning on the wooden shelving. Clamping on the woodworm ridden structure with its powerful jaws, the wolf ravaged it into splinters and crumbling fragments within minutes. Drawing back, the wolf growled loudly. It had done nothing to abate the animal's agitation.

Bounding over the remnants, the werewolf ran wild, lost in the madness of the bloodlust.

A glint of moonlight caught the wolf's attention.

The shattered mirror gleamed silver in the dim light. The shadowy image of another wolf stared back from the jagged shards.

A thunderous growl rising in his throat, the wolf ignored any notion of the other creature not baring any scent and responded to the one overpowering instinct that governed it.

With two mighty bounds, the werewolf flew at its reflection.

There was an almighty crash as the mirror shattered, the frame splintering and the glass flew everywhere. Shards cut deep into the wolf's muzzle and front paws as the enraged beast cried out in pain. Scrawling in a heap, the wolf knew it was hurt but the scent of blood filled its nostrils and swept away all consideration of its injuries.

Dark red blood oozed from the wounds on its paws. Licking the blood away with its long tongue, the wolf felt a surge of satisfaction. But it wasn't enough to calm the half-crazed animal. With the first tantalizing taste, its craving intensified. Somehow, the creature knew the taste wasn't right. He still wanted the warm flowing blood of the prey that had escaped, but the bloodlust could not be denied; not now.

Desperately, the wolf twisted its head this way and that, trying to reach the blood matting its fur. Unable to reach it all, the wolf gave a frustrated yelp and bit at its own haunches, then again, harder, and harder still, until the crimson blood seeped from the marks. Half biting, half licking, the wolf was working itself into a frenzy.

The blood began to flow, gleaming in the soft glow from above.

-o-

Diane lay curled up on her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. Her eyes red and swollen, tears raced down her face. She made no effort to stifle her sobs.

-o-

Slumped against the passage wall, Julian fought to keep awake as the night crept slowly by. Sheer willpower alone was staving off sleep, but it was powerless to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks at the torturous howls of agony from beyond the cellar door.

-o-

After several agonising hours, the werewolf lay in a pool of its own blood on the cold flagstones. Eyes glazed and breathing in ragged, shallow breaths, the huge creature found it was unable to rise. Finally giving in to its own body's exhaustion, the werewolf slowly closed its eyes.

Through the tiny, grimy window, the full moon shone with eerie radiance through the darkness. The storm had died away, and in the distance, a soft dusty glow painted the black of night with the barest touch of the approaching sunrise.

-o-

**To Be Continued …**

-o-

**_Please review. All comments and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated._**

-o-

**Author's Notes**

I apologise for any mistakes this chapter and those in the previous chapters. I unfortunately no longer have a Beta to help me check my work. If anyone would be willing to assist me, I would be very grateful. Though please bear in mind that due to other commitments, writing fanfiction is not very high on my priority list for the time being, so Beta-ing my work will not be a particularly regular thing. If you don't mind the occasional request, please contact me via e-mail. Thank you.

**Evil Spapple Pie - **Thank you for reviewing! Sorry, I'm taking so long to update. And thanks for pointing those out; unfortunatly I keep reading what I 'think' I've writen so I keep missing those kinds of mistakes. Glad you like it so far!

**Steph Silverstar - **Thank you!

**Shadow00 - **Ah, you're very nice to say so! I can guarantee that this fic will run to the end of Remus' years at Hogwarts as an absolute minimum. The plot hasn't gained much ground on post-Hogwarts at the moment but I'm working on it!

**Summersun - **Again, apologises for not updating sooner! Can't believe how long this has taken me; will certainly be trying harder to be quicker with chapter seven. Thanks for reading.

**The Thief Kurone - **First of all, thank you SO much for reviewing multiple chapters!And I'm very pleased that you've enjoyed it thus far. I'm all for a good angst, and I wasn't sure if I'd written this as well as I'd hoped, but if your review is anything to go by, I'm on the right track, which is highly encouraging! The reaction of Remus' own grandmother has very much set the trend for him; from here on he's going to become very withdrawn and shy, placing trust only in his parents, but even then it's not going to be easy for him, as he feels that he is responsible for everything that's happened. It's far from the nicest thing to write about it and I hope I'm going to do the character justice. Certainly I hope that Remus fans will enjoy it as much as I am writing it! Got so much planned for the Marauder years! Hope you've enjoyed the lastest installment - next one hopefully shouldn't take too long.

**Zeldafreak14 - **I'm blushing, that's so flattering! (Can feel my head swelling: that's not good!) Ipersonally can't wait to see the next part of your fic - baby Harry's so cute!

**Liv Naravul - **Thanks! I don't mind nitpicks! I nitpick my own work so much it's almost nice to have someone else do it for a change. I do love a lot of detail; can't stand being too vague so I tend to write a lot of descriptive passages, as I did for the transformation - took ages but thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Hope to hear from you again soon.


	7. Aftermath

**Author's Notes**

Ok, it's been a while since an update, I have to admit. (Yeah, alright, best part of a year.) That crazy thing known as life kinda got in the way; changing jobs (several times), being ill (a lot) and just plain uninspired to write and no time to do it in anyway. So, here we are at long last, a short chapter to get back into the swing of things. Enjoy!

And a HUGE THANK YOU goes out to Evil Spapple Pie who has stepped in to Beta for me. You are a life saver!

**Chapter Seven: Aftershock**

Above the sleepy village of Helmsley, dawn was breaking. The soft dusty yellow and pink of the sunrise gave way to a morning-glory blue sky, resplendent in the passing of the night's storm.

A wave of sunlight swept across the land, chasing away the shadows, and highlighting the sparkling beads of dew on the swaying grass. The sun cleared the horizon and began its ascent into the sky, sending beams of light lancing in through the windows of the little cottage situated some distance from the village.

One such beam caught Diane square in the face. She winced in her sleep and rolled over. Casting an arm out, her mind registered the absence of her husband, and it was this that roused her.

Squinting and stifling a yawn, Diane sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

'Julian?' she only just managed to articulate through a yawn. 'What …'

Abruptly, she stopped.

Her eyes widened in horror as recollections of the night before came flooding back like a tidal wave, jolting her fully awake. Turning to stare out of the window, it was a few moments before she was able to comprehend why the storm that she had been watching was no longer there.

Almost ripping her sleeve, Diane fumbled for her watch and looked at the time. The distant crowing of a rooster on the nearby farm was enough to confirm it.

Vaulting off the bed, Diane was not even slightly aware of the fact that she'd fallen asleep in her clothes and they were now badly rumpled and creased. Nor that her beautiful hair was in an equally terrible state. The dark circles under her eyes showed just how little sleep she'd actually had, and how restless it had been.

But Diane had no time to spare for such trivial matters. There was only one thought on her mind.

_Remus_.

Half stumbling down the staircase, Diane hurried around the corner and to the passage that led to the cellar. It was then that she drew up short.

Lying slumped against the wall was Julian.

Judging by his haggard grey face, it was obvious that Julian had not long given in to sleep. His wand was held limply in his hand, a spell book about to slide off his lap.

Diane stood there looking at him for a moment, her heart aching. Loath though she was to wake him, she knew that neither of them could afford the luxury of rest just yet. The moon had long since set.

Dropping to her knees, Diane reached out and shook his shoulder.

'Julian?'

A soft groaning mumble was her only response.

'Julian … _Julian_ …'

With a sleepy grunt, the wizard opened his eyes, gazing blearily about him, half consciously gripping his wand.

'Huh? … wha …'

'It's only me,' whispered Diane, gently laying a hand over his wand before he inadvertently cast a spell. 'The storm's over … it's morning.'

At these words, Julian's eyes achieved some focus and he stared at his wife.

'But – '

Together they turned to look at the locked door at the end of the passage.

Struggling to his feet, Julian raised his wand. With a few counter-spells, the shields and barriers fell. Then Julian pointed to the lock.

'_Alohomora_!'

-o-

Barely an hour ago, the moon had faded from the sky and set in motion the transmutation from werewolf back to human. It was at that exact point that Remus became fully aware once more. The sensation did not feel remotely like that of the smooth transition from sleep into wakefulness; for Remus had been trapped in a waking nightmare all night long and it wasn't finished yet.

What felt like a swarm of red-hot needles pricking his skin was the first hint of the change. The wolf growled and squirmed helplessly on the floor, pawing at its muzzle, unable to shake off the feeling. Wounds on the animal's haunches, legs and face were a terrible array of scratches, bites and cuts. Shards of glass were embedded into several deep cuts that stung as the creature moved. Raising its head, the wolf weakly made an attempt to ease its growing discomfort, licking away the half congealed blood matting the fur on its huge paws. But it made little difference, for it was lying in a dark pool of its own blood, smeared across the cold flagstones.

A dull throbbing in its head was mounting rapidly and it was this that Remus could feel clearly, the first sensation he could feel as his own since the wolf's ferocious nature had dominated his during the transformation.

But Remus had still been aware.

Everything that the werewolf had done, Remus had watched through new eyes, smelt with a new nose … tasted with his new tongue … felt with his own body …

And now, his mind touched the wolf's as it receded; leaving Remus with a body that was slowly changing shape once more.

Remus opened his jaws and let out a weak, pitiful moan as all the pain the wolf had inflicted became his own. The stinging cuts, the weeping sores and the sheer exhaustion.

Then the change truly began.

Too weak to even try and fight it as he had done last night, Remus slumped to the floor, giving in to the blinding pain as his skeleton reformed, his organs shifted sickeningly and the fur drew back into his skin.

Closing his eyes, Remus began to cry. Salty tears streamed down his misshapen face, dripping off his furry cheeks to mingle with the dark red pool in which he lay.

The pain reached a crescendo as the last vestiges of the wolf disappeared, sending a wave of agony washing over him from head to foot.

It was over.

His head swimming, breathing in the coppery smell of blood, Remus slowly opened his eyes and gazed blearily across the floor to the weak ray of sunlight as it gradually permeated the gloom through the murky window. But Remus wasn't truly seeing it.

All he could see was everything that the werewolf had done.

Everything that _he_ had done.

Remus' small naked body started to quiver, shivering with the cold. The open wounds were weeping and dark bruises were blossoming on the pale white skin. Yet Remus didn't know they were there. He was finally beyond feeling anything.

-o-

A short while later, his parents found him.

-o-

Wrapped up in thick blanket and laying curled up on the sofa, Remus avoided his mother's gaze as she tenderly washed his wounds. Tears ran unhindered down Diane's deathly pale face. Using a soft, clean cloth and a mild solution of camomile and witch-hazel, she dabbed at the open sores, carefully removing bits of dirt and grime

Julian had already spent the best part of an hour painstakingly removing every shard of glass they'd found embedded into Remus' skin. Remus had flinched and cried throughout the ordeal, but had not uttered a single sound.

Julian was currently in the kitchen, brewing up a potion to help replenish the blood that Remus had lost during the night. Diane had been horrified at how much blood they'd discovered on the floor and over their son. The state he had been in …

Diane held back a sob with difficulty. Remus needed her to be strong, to help him through this. But she was at a loss for anything to say. If she dared to open her mouth she feared that all that would come out would be sobs and cries of how unfair it all was. Why him? Why Remus? Why her son? Why her family? What had they done to deserve this?

Diane gazed at her son through tear-filled eyes. But Remus would not look at her. Beyond a few whimpers and groans of pain when they had retrieved him from the cellar, Remus had not spoken. Though he had regained full consciousness, the child had just sat there, staring off into space, completely unresponsive.

'Remus?' Diane whispered tentatively.

Remus merely blinked slowly, his eyes fixed on the edge of the blanket.

Diane swallowed hard and tried again.

'Are you hungry, darling? I could make you some soup.'

Still nothing.

'How about chicken? It's your favourite.'

Remus turned his head slightly, turning away from her. Diane's heart ached. She could see that even that small movement was painful for him, but why turn away from her?

'Remus? Are you ok? Please talk to me …'

For half an hour Diane failed to coax any kind of response out her son. Finally, having cleaned the last of his wounds and bandaged them, she reluctantly left his side and went into the kitchen.

A small battered travelling cauldron was set up on the table, a bright purple potion simmering inside it. Julian was hunched over a chopping board, shredding some leaves and muttering under his breath as he repeatedly checked the book propped up in front of him.

He glanced over as his wife came in.

'How is he?'

Diane sighed and shook her head, fighting back tears.

'He won't talk to me,' she said, barely above a whisper. 'I – I don't know what to do … I want to help him but I don't know how …'

'Hey, hey …' Julian immediately abandoned the potion, crossed the room and drew his wife into a hug. Diane let out a shuddering cry and sobbed into his shoulder. Julian hushed her, gently rubbing her back. 'It'll be ok,' he said. 'We'll figure things out. Look, I'm working on several batches of this potion; it'll keep for six months so won't have to worry about brewing some more every few weeks.'

Diane sniffed and nodded. At least Julian was able to think clearly. Already he was planning ahead, trying to make things easier.

But it was just so hard at that moment to imagine how things would ever get easier.

-o-

Remus lay perfectly still, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Every part of his body ached. His wounds, though now clean and free of glass, stung from the cleansing solution and the dressing itched.

But the physical pain was nothing to what was haunting him at that moment.

In his minds eye, Remus could recall everything he'd done as the wolf. Howling … prowling the cellar … scenting his mother and –

Remus closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face and his heart crying out in anguish.

He'd wanted to kill her.

And he had been powerless to stop himself.

How could he ever look his mother in the face again? How could she possibly bring herself to love him when she knew that he would have killed her last night?

He didn't deserve to be helped.

He didn't even deserve to be alive.

The children of Sedburgh had been right about him all along.

He was a monster.

-o-

**Author's Notes**

Well, there you go. A short, uneventful chapter I'll admit but the pace will pick up soon enough.

**Steph**** Silverstar – **Thanks, I love descriptive writing, tend to put a fair amount of it into my fics.

**Yoda – **Long time, no write, my friend; hope to hear from you soon. Best fanfic writer ever? You are making me blush! Don't know if I really deserve that title given my lack of writing this past year, but fear not, I shall persevere with this fic and complete it!

**Evil spapple pie – **Again, many many thanks for stepping in as my Beta. Not to scare you or anything, but my idea of covering all seven of Remus' years at Hogwarts still stands. That'll be a lot of chapters by the time it gets finished. (Although I can promise that I don't intend to make them thirty odd chapters each!)

**Miss Anonymous hp – **Thanks, I hope you like the chapters to come!

**Pickledishkiller**** – **Yes, I was sad I stopped writing too – just didn't have the time nor felt like writing for quite some time. Hope you'll continue to read as I fully intend to complete this fic.

**Jojo**** – **I apologise for not updating sooner. Several times I put on my bio I would and never did. I fibbed without intention. But it's here at last! And chapter eight is being worked on right now, so fear not, another update will emerge soon enough. Enjoy!


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